


And the rest, is Johann

by gotzendammerung



Series: An end, once and for all [3]
Category: Monster (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abuse, Depression, Drama, Lots of drama, Suicidal Tendencies, Violence, all dark topics appearing on the series but much more explicit, all warnings from the previous fic apply to this one, even more drama as the plot develops, the sequel of ...then Anna, warning: excursion within johan's head, warning: johan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22761220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotzendammerung/pseuds/gotzendammerung
Summary: I don’t want a body, but I need one:A brain to shelter my mind.A heart to warm up my life.And guts to survive the night.But I will not refrain from destroying it.I will build it before my soul becomes extinct, like a flame engulfed by the void. Out of ash, dust, and iron.Out of bronze, flesh, and blood. Horror.
Series: An end, once and for all [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1116342
Comments: 17
Kudos: 28





	1. Sui generis

Anna rapidly let her wallet disappear in the darkness of her handbag before grabbing the beverages from the café counter, smiling at the waitress before heading towards the exit.

She felt happy. No, not just happy, but exultant. Everything just felt perfect, the warm sun of spring over her skin, the lively Parisienne streets, the amusing shopping spree of the previous days…

… and of course, Johann.

It had been a never-ending adventure, jumping from one city to another, chosen at random, during months. They had just returned from Saint Petersburg and there they were, spending all the money they wanted on clothing, books, jewels, sweets, etc.

Crossing the extremely crowded Place de la Concorde she headed towards the Jardin des Tuileries, where he was waiting for his iced tea sitting on a bench.

He had changed in those few months, so much she could barely recognize him.

His slightly tanned skin combined with his now almost normal weight gave him a much healthier appearance that only fueled his attractiveness. Yes, she was aware of how women around him looked at her brother with barely hidden, or not at all, appreciation. It was a comic display considering his absolute indifference.

But his appearance was the lesser of his changes. In those months she had learned to make a place for him in her life, to make some sense of their current situation and, despite fighting the demons of guilt and fear, she finally dared to say that she was glad of his decision of staying.

His company was an endless list of surprises, in the shape of profound discussion mixed with childish talk, irrational ideas and the brutal intimacy someone with her same demons could offer.

It had been the correct choice, the brave one.

Now there was but one thing left, learn not to fear him. Because it was there, in his eyes, constantly. In the beginning, as he appeared in her apartment, they were dull, devoid of anything human, but now, they were different, so different…

The monster had healed, under her care, and now appeared alert, charismatic, strong.

Johann had never felt better, probably.

And it also meant he had never been that dangerous.

And she was left between the happiness of helping him, his gratitude, and the awareness of the danger she was fueling.

“An iced tea for you and a coffee for me!” She greeted him, handing him his plastic cup.

“Thank you.” His ice eyes were still visible behind the sunglasses, piercing, always.

“Do you want to sit for a while, are you tired?” She waited for no answer, remembering her feet. “Actually… we can wait for a couple of minutes… please…” she swung her legs. “I love these shoes but, you were right… they aren’t comfortable…” She made a pout, glancing briefly at him. “Remind me to follow your advice next time…”

Johann’s smile was frozen on his lips, as he was occupied rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“You should follow my advice, always.” He used such a solemn tone. “By the way, once you recover… would you like to walk a little under the trees, it would be nice to escape this sun for a few minutes, don’t you think?”

“Yes! I’m still trying to transition from the Russian weather to this, and it’s being hard.” And pleasing, so pleasing.

“In any case, maybe it would be a good idea to stay indoors this afternoon, we are both tired,” she had to agree. “We can watch a movie, check all the shopping we’ve done in the last days… or simply lie down.” And if he asked to stay home, he really needed it. She had learned that Johann could endure real life, society, but in smaller doses. To stay away from people, because humans were that exhausting for him.

Oh, the dresses, the shoes, the coats… she couldn’t even remember all she had bought.

“What am I going to do with so much fancy clothing…?” she covered her face in a dramatic gesture, remembering they were a dozen bags waiting on their apartment.

He faced the same problem though, and his wardrobe was now ten times bigger.

“I don’t see the problem, whatever you want… use them daily, have fun at home, save them for a special occasion…” He smiled, before taking a small sip of his tea. “And they look absolutely gorgeous on you.”

Johann had made sure of that, displaying a fine example of his most obsessive meticulousness. Yet that performance had actually arisen many questions on her.

“Hmm… the white heels, why were you so insistent for me to buy them?” They had just talked once about that topic, months ago, she suspected, but he hadn’t ever felt compelled to explain himself much more afterward. Now all she wanted was his honesty, it didn’t matter how disturbing, terrifying or unsettling it was, thus it was her the one compelled to insist.

Because this conversation was going towards that, Anna, his.

“I had them myself. That’s why I know that they not only look very nice but are also incredibly comfortable. Unlike those…” He had just confirmed her suspicious and thus drew an innocent smile, expecting her to ask further. She didn’t dare to think of him letting his guard down, and he was always ahead of even her own thoughts.

And she did ask, attempting a joke.

“As Anna, you wore Prada?” She suddenly focused on his clothing, the most casual he owned, simple white shirt and dark trousers. “Is your clothing that expensive?” She asked the same day she had seen him spending her previous yearly salary in an Armani store.

“Sometimes it is, sometimes not. Clothing is nothing more than a part of this façade.” And he knew how to adapt it to his needs. She had already met, in just a few weeks, more than twenty different versions of Johann, completely different personalities, styles, including languages and dialects, with the only common ground of that body. Every time he faced any sort of social interaction, a dice in his head decided who was he going to play. He had promised to surprise her, and it hadn’t been otherwise. She was still trying to process that skill of his.

“It is…” She was decided to ask… eventually. She remained silent for almost a minute, in an attempt to order her thoughts. He simply waited, enjoying in the meantime the coldness of the drink, lost in his own thoughts.

“You seem to like fashion…” It was a vague statement he probably thought, and she agreed. “At least you know much more than I do…” which didn’t say much, she was completely ignorant on those matters, as her clumsy attempts had already stated. She had spent her entire life with a rather cute, but ultimately comfortable, wardrobe. And she had never planned on changing that.

Another smile she deserved, it seemed.

“I guess I have a strong aesthetic sense, or at least I soon understood the great importance of one’s physical appearance. And I never hesitated in using beauty.” He accompanied it with his most lovely smile, in case she had forgotten.

It was not like she was that oblivious either, noticing also the looks of men upon her, the comments. She understood her own appeal, and his, as they both seemed to fall into those eternal beauty standards, reminiscence of Ancient Greece. But he was special.

“You are beautiful indeed. Very beautiful…” She praised him without a second thought. He answered with a strange expression, a mixture of boredom and curiosity. Or that’s what she saw.

“I know. I’ve been told countless times, enough to understand that my supposed charisma is mostly created by my face.” His tone was indeed bored, with what seemed a hint of bitterness. He suddenly leaned towards her. “I had a professor of Latin that was obsessed with comparing me with a model used in Ancient Rome for some statues: Antinous. He was a young boy who became the lover of the Roman Emperor Hadrian.” His eyes sparkled dangerously, and it was enough to send an awful chill across her spine.

“Oh, really?” Her eyes focused on his features, his nose, lips, wondering. She wasn’t asking the fate of that man.

His answer was a contemptuous smile. So seductive. It bored him all the praising for this physique but at the same time, he was amused by how easily he could seduce others.

“Yes, he even gave me a replica of his statue as Dionysus…” He got even closer to her ear, enough for his hair to caress her skin. “After his death in mysterious circumstances in the Nile, the emperor, devastated, deified him. That’s why he’s been portrayed as Dionysus, Osiris… and worshiped.” He was so close she could perfectly meet his eyes beyond the dark glass, rather intimidating. “I’ve already been demonized in life, though, I wonder if my myth will go on after my death…” She wished he would just stop doing that, using such a childish tone and utterly wrong expression to talk about death and demons with whom he had such a fixation. Johann seemed to have a curious relationship with Christianism, and he often used religious terms.

Her hands were clasped around her coffee, obviously uncomfortable.

“Would you like to be worshiped after death?” She dared to ask.

“I’m slightly curious, but indifferent nonetheless.” He said with the brightest smile, before taking a long sip of his tea. She imitated him, considering that topic closed after his disturbing confession a moment ago. He finally sat straight again. “But we were talking about much more interesting matters now, like beauty and fashion.” Anna thanked him for returning to their previous topics after that disturbing deviance.

He seemed to reorder his thoughts while his eyes pondered over the gardens ahead of them.

“I know more about making myself attractive to others than you… regardless of any natural beauty. Attractiveness is a social construction after all, despite its instinctive origins.” He was not going to answer her queries unless she dared to ask first, it seemed. Why didn’t she simply ask instead of getting annoyed at him for those empty statements?

She tried to find her courage for not making weird assumptions or prejudices that would make her look stupid in front of him.

“Don’t get it wrong but…” She knew using that expression would annoy him, but she couldn’t stop it, trying instead to rephrase it as direct as possible. But she simply couldn’t find the proper words. “I know… that you know… but… don’t you also enjoy it? A little bit?”

He drew a mechanic smile, that she had learned to interpret by now that he was starting to get bored.

“Finding the perfect shoes to match a blazer? Yes, sometimes it can be a real challenge… don’t you think?” He suddenly leaned on his side, getting closer to her even if it wasn’t necessary as they used Czech in public, just in case. “It’s frustrating that you still aren’t capable of asking ‘uncomfortable’ questions and prefer to waste time wondering about my favorite luxury brands instead…” his hand reached a rebel flock of hair of hers. He finally slouched back, seemingly so relaxed.

And then he did it, what she had feared, and the sunglasses ended up on his head and those eyes exposed, to the sun, and her nervousness. She blushed immediately, feeling the heat on her cheeks, clearly intimidated, while Johann simply stared at her, equally bored and amused by now.

“Because that is the direction of this conversation, isn’t it, Anna?”

“Sorry… I shouldn’t hesitate so much.” She suddenly sat straight, regaining some of her confidence before taking a sip of her obviously non-alcoholic coffee. “I know you care very much about appearances and you actually have an amazing style dressing as a man, and surely as a woman considering your suggestions. But I can’t stop the feeling that you like female fashion more…?”

That wasn’t the question and he rolled his eyes in a theatrical way.

“And I do. Women are the main focus of the fashion industry and right now you have a much wider range of possibilities. Especially considering that I prefer rather classic looks, as they are appealing for the majority of the population.” He patiently waited for her to figure out how to ask the question properly.

“And… wouldn’t you prefer… to look like a woman? Like… sometimes?”

He sighed, keeping the dramatic display that never reached his voice.

“I’m not going to answer a question you haven’t formulated properly… so, find the nerve or simply change topics.” Why was she hesitating so much? Was she fearing his answer that much?

It wasn’t that strange to think Johann would have a deviated sexuality, criminally so. And she had read too much not to compare him to his equally dangerous peers.

“Ok, ok… Would you prefer to be a woman instead of a man, all the time? Like… be transsexual?” She had been wondering for a while, especially after his confession that night in Dresden, saying he simply preferred to be her rather than himself.

He surely took some long, very long seconds to finally spit an answer straight away.

“No.” The smile then was a lively one, his previous boredom turned into real amusement, it meant. “Being an attractive woman requires too much effort, and… I’m certain you don’t want me back into the no-eating behavior…”

Her face surely exposed her alarm.

“No, no, no! You are going to keep eating normally… don’t dare…” First, it had seemed a suicidal tendency, starvation, then she had started wondering if Johann suffered also any sort of eating disorder, to finally discover he was just trying to piss her, and if he increased his chances of dying, even better. Although he indeed had a very unhealthy relationship with food, it wasn’t bad enough to oppose her controlling what they eat.

“For me, it’s more practical to keep my genetic gender role, so I don’t give it much more thought, actually...” A pause, gathering his thoughts while his eyes looked lost. “I understand that society puts too much pressure on the roles assigned by gender, and many people struggle about identity on those matters, but that’s not my case. Whether I struggle on identity or not, gender and sexuality represent the last items on a list, headed by memories and followed by name.”

She stayed silent for a while, surprised by his talkative answer, seeming a sincere confession. She was tempted to ask further about his last sentence, but she had learned that those topics should be referred to in private, otherwise Johann showed a surprisingly paranoid behavior. So, she went back to their previous mundane topic.

“So… you haven’t struggled about gender… but about sexuality?”

He laughed, of course, he did. And she blushed and then tried to laugh awkwardly.

“You show an unhealthy fixation on my sexuality, sister…” He mocked, becoming again her teasing brother.

“Since when? Like I’ve asked you that often…” She bit her lip.

“You have, usually so subtly you might not even be consciously aware, though…” He slightly nodded, as some train of thoughts confirmed those words she couldn’t agree with.

“I haven’t! But…” It was a perfect moment, and a group of six girls, college students probably, walked right in front of them. One looked directly at them, then whispered and the rest looked. At him, exactly.

And Johann stared back, with those piercing eyes of his accompanied of a restrained smile that could melt anyone’s heart, or hormones, to finally turn it into an expression mix of prideful disdain and boredom before focusing his attention back to her, and his expression to neutral.

She waited some seconds until they got further away in their chaotic astonishment. His reaction hadn’t been foreseen for sure.

“See? They wanted you so badly…” That time it was a rather sincere laugh. “It’s not weird to wonder…”

He nodded, agreeing. “I could ask you the same, sister, since I’m also curious.” He turned partially towards her, the group right behind him. “Such a lovely girl, such an attractive body… left to waste, some might say, because you are still a cute virgin.”

“I’ve never said that.” No…? It wasn’t like she minded him knowing, but… she felt a little uncomfortable exposing herself like that, it didn’t matter to whom.

“You haven’t, but I just need to see how awkward this conversation is for you to confirm my suspicions. You don’t feel uncomfortable because it’s about me, and thus deviancy is expected, but because we are talking about a topic you are supposed to know, as a healthy adult, but you have actually no experience of any sort.” And she was left to wonder whether his words were correct.

He suddenly leaned forward, staying so incredibly close, again.

“In fact, I’m sure that I’m the only person that has ever gotten any physical with you, the adult you. Which talks very badly about your affective life, very badly, since we have hugged or kissed a couple of times in these months, and it summarizes all our relationship as adults.” He shrugged. “Of course, none of it could be qualified as sexual, yet vaguely affective, if such word can be applied to us.”

She blushed then, definitely blushed. Yes, she had no experience nor craved any. No, sexuality was out of her life, romantic intimacy too, it seemed, now that she only desiderated the company of monsters and was extremely pleased with her choice.

“Ok… you are right.” She took another sip of her coffee. He didn’t need such confirmation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” And just like that, the extremely good listener and comprehensive brother was back. He used to do that, suddenly becoming some sort of therapist or confessionary where she could expose anything, knowing he would never judge anything.

Of course, so many people failed for him… such a charming, amoral companion was that requested.

“No… well… I just wanted to learn about you… so I would know if it’s just me or you seem to follow a similar path…”

He had already exposed his conclusion and the hidden way in which Bonaparta had been able to mess with them. It was astonishing to think he could toy with their lives like that, but after his surprising analysis, she had reached the conclusion that Johann was right, and the predatory behavior of that man over their own mother had defined much of her disgust for romance. Also him seemed to derive some traumatic experience from that, as he had confessed, but his explanation had been vague back then, so she was going to try and get more information.

“I have some sexual experience, more than you definitely.” His eyes reached the tea over his lap, before going back to her. “Enough to have a solid opinion on the topic.” He wasn’t quite pleased with using seduction as a manipulative tool, unlike beauty, although perfectly skilled on it, too.

“That is…” Whatever he told, she shouldn’t be surprised, whatever it was… But she knew quite well that he could still horrify her in whole new forms, and it was about to happen.

“Remember how I was telling you, minutes ago, about always following my advice? This is the best I can offer you on this topic: avoid any sort of sexual intercourse, with anyone, at all costs. Unless you end up in a long-term romantic relationship and feel obliged, or maybe just curious… then I would suggest obliterating that relationship instead.”

Her eyes were wide open indeed. She had considered many possible answers, from the most deviant and sadistic ones to the rather normal ones, anything, but that.

And then the painfully obvious conclusion, the one she had tried to avoid for months, he had had bad experiences, really bad ones, for himself.

It was a curious behavior of hers, she already had a vague idea of his life experiences, the ones he remembered, including random moments of their time separated. Many of them were utterly heart-breaking, enough to leave her in tears while he was elaborating his apathetic tale. But he had never gone beyond vague allusions on sexual harassment. And it terrified her, maybe because she clearly remembered him being so beautiful, maybe because her adult self already felt repulsed by its non-criminal alternative.

“That’s a strong position indeed…” She clearly remembered him telling her the opposite that other time, that she shouldn’t fear love.

“I know.” That smile was a proud one, which meant he was teasing, probably.

“Is your experience… that bad?” She dared.

“No, simply mediocre, if I’m to be honest. The occasional experience I had as a teenager.” His expression had remained neutral all the time, as usual whenever he talked about himself.

She had no idea whether to be happy or further worried by that ambiguous statement. So, she had to ask.

“Was it… consensual?”

“Yes.” He drank. “I went through the normal hormonal changes, I got curious over the topic, I tried, and my curiosity was rapidly dissolved.” He added a strange expression, combination of childish disgust and annoyance, so adorable.

And she laughed, going back to her previous state of mind, casual. Today was meant for fun, just fun.

“Have you considered you might have chosen the worst lovers possible?” It was such a relief, that answer.

“There’s that chance of course, but I’m never going to take the risk again.” He laughed and she followed.

Then he stood up, reaching her empty cup and throwing both of them to the closest bin.

“Let’s go, we had too much sun.” Instead of following the main crowded path they chose an alternative one, completely empty, that offered real protection from the sun.

“However, that wasn’t my first experience.” She was too focused on the green paradise in front of them, so his words required some time to register in her brain, like pouring cold water.

She turned, slowly, to find him apparent apathetic expression.

“What do you mean?”

“I was drugged most of the time, so any memories I can recall from that basement might be pure fantasies, but I have strong suspicions of having experienced certain events that my adult mind can identify as non-consensual sexual intercourse.” That was indeed an intricated way of confirming her worst nightmares.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She had learned to avoid any emotional display in those situations and use some meaningless politeness instead. Yet the next thing she had to do was drying the tears already falling down her cheeks.

She didn’t want to think about it, but she was left to wonder, what he remembered, since when, and the main question was how much those suspicions had damaged him. Johann had not only been treated as an experimental toy in that place, but as a mere object. During years. And he had never received any sort of support nor help afterward. And thus, he had assumed, from the earlier stages of his childhood, that he couldn’t count on anyone, it didn’t matter what life put him through. Not for company or support, neither for protection. And thus, he buried everything within himself, good or bad, it didn’t matter, but sharing was a forbidden word. And he still did.

Of course, he had to become a monster.

“Now I advise you to stop that pathetic train of thoughts trying to justify my adult self, those mediocre excuses, all of them drowning in pity and guilt.” His tone changed so little, but enough to turn his neutrality into the most dangerous threat.

“But…” She looked at him and his now severe eyes. He usually said something like that, but a few times before he had shown such an aggressive tone. One that felt like that.

“Stop, Anna… stop.” He surely knew how to freak her out and make her forget all pity. One of his looks was more than enough. “And remember that by the time I got into that orphanage I would already be considered a serial killer.”

“But… we were seven…” She had to dry her eyes again.

“I have never been a child, sister, not a real one, like you, others. I’ve never had an innocent period nor it’s trauma the cause of my existence such as this.” The threat continued, subtle.

That was new, definitely new. It was obvious he had been special, but she had never thought of it in terms beyond his prodigious mind.

“What do you mean by that?” she rapidly positioned herself in front of him. Now it was her the one offering her most intense stare, that he simply accepted, although his eyes freeze slightly as she forced him to stop.

No, Johann didn’t like to be commanded.

“Our relationship is really far from the point where I’m interested in discussing such intimate matters with you.” Especially when her emotional reaction made him so angry.

She had to draw a condescending smile. He had been successful in turning her pity into anger too.

“Oh, don’t you really think our relationship is simply dead?”

“Yes, but you don't, regardless of what I say, and that’s all that matters.” He knew how to hurt, and she didn’t know how to properly conceal it.

His smile was the sadistic prove. Yet she saved another knife.

“You are not capable of talking about yourself nor sharing anything, that’s why no relationship works for you.”

“And you hate it, so badly, that it’s rather adorable to see you so frustrated.” He tilted his head, showing the same smile he could offer a puppy.

“Because I can see how much it damages you.” He raised an eyebrow, curious, and it was enough for her to question the truth. She knew too little to make such statements, and she would probably never know more. “You are not above loneliness, Johann, that’s why you are enduring my presence, because you need it.”

Johann was indeed a black box, that now decided to laugh.

“You are really getting good at this, sister. I’m impressed. A few more months with me and you’ll be able to turn yourself into a complete monster if the circumstances arise.” She doubted he meant that.

However, by changing topics in such a deliberate way he was telling her she had touched a nerve, but she had learned, after brutal experiences, never, absolutely never to corner him. Because those were the few moments in which he considered killing her, with no hesitation.

And she decided to follow him and ease the gravity of that conversation. It was a fun day, she had promised.

“I have the best master possible, you know...” She finally got out of his way. “And it’s true… it’s a useful skill, in case I’m attacked.” She started walking again, hoping he would follow.

And he did. His apparent anger disappeared as soon as it proved useful and he was using again that apathetic tone of his, almost pedagogical.

“Social interaction is warfare.” He sentenced, one of his core beliefs. Because he was a nuclear weapon in a psychological war, he had been designed as such. “Or you can also see it from an economic point of view: an investment that needs to be profitable, in terms of emotions, material gain or social status.” He looked at her for the first time in a while.

“Us too?” He was expecting that question, and she, his counterexample.

“We are the finest example of profitable investments for each other.” What did he get from her? “For you, I’m your current charity project in which you project your frustrations, guilt, and pity because I’m the source of most of those feelings. You fight me by helping me, since I represent everything wrong from that past you are so obsessed with fixing.” He thought his role in her life was that simple and now wasn’t the time to make him understand.

“And what are you getting from me, brother?”

He didn’t answer, offering instead an analytic stare that left her clueless.

“Agency, because I’ve lost mine.” She wasn’t expecting that answer from the most individualistic creature on Earth. “I’m not capable of living anymore, as a monster or as a man, as you have seen, so I’m using you as a trigger because you are the strongest force of change for me.” He smiled at her astonishment.

“Do you really believe I can change you that much?” She finally was able to say. The excitement inside her was no joke. She was in power, much more than she had expected. If he was sincere.

“Absolutely. I’m waiting for you to manipulate me into doing something, see if you can convince me to survive and try to improve my current condition, as you want. Or you get tired enough to make me die or anger me enough to make me kill. But whatever happens to me from now on, you can be sure, you are the sole reason behind it.”

She required minutes in complete silence to process that idea, to gather her thoughts enough to synthesize an answer. Yes, she was painfully aware of his tamed behavior, hiding nothing more than a clueless monster, confused, enough not to behave like a monster anymore.

“Do you really think I can convince you to stay alive?”

He suddenly stopped, to offer her an expression that she would remember the rest of her life.

“One day you will understand the power you have over me. You can make me do, say and think whatever you want, Anna. My existence is solely defined within yours.” And those eyes turned so melancholic that dared to convince her. “However, I’m not so sure you have the skills to use me like the lifeless doll I truly am. But I promise you that I’m completely in your hands, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Like a white knight kneeling before his princess, he offered loyalty and serfdom, and the power to slay the monster.

And she was eager to use that power.

“I promise you, I'll find a way to control you completely and convince you to overcome your anger and fear in order to survive.”

“Be careful with what you promise, it might turn against you.” It was a promise rather than a threat.

“Dare to.”


	2. In vino veritas (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both twins, a mansion in Vienna, a bottle of absinthe... perfect combination!

“Happy birthday, Anna.” She had thought that their hotel in Vienna would be in that district, so she had followed Johann without much thought, as he had taken care of that trip like he always did. His hand left the pocket of his blazer to show her a set of keys, at the same time as he took one of her hands to place them.

“Sorry… what?” She looked at them, it seemed from an apartment. “What is this…?”

She perfectly knew that today was their birthday, but after days of inner deliberation, she had decided not to even mention it. It wasn’t such a big deal, they had to be born a certain day of the year, but… it felt strange. She had celebrated her birthday every time, even in those times of chase, a reminder for herself that she had survived yet another year.

Was a day of mourning for Johann? Nothing at all? To remember he shared that special day with someone who remembered nothing about him?

His eyes upon her seemed to devour her surprise, her discomfort, her. Then they simply turned to his right, towards a villa that seemed a miniature of the Schönbrunn Palace, there, beyond its gates, gardens.

“I once promised you I would put the world at your feet.” And offer her an entire palace that might cost… she didn’t want to know.

Her eyes alternated Johann and the villa, and then back to Johann again.

“Have you… bought me… that mansion…?”

He slowly smirked, dangerously proud of himself.

“No. But I could do that if you want it.” And he dared to seem surprised at her astonishment. "For now I've rented it. For a few days."

In no way, they had that much money. But he stood, calm and confident, as always, while his smile turned yet wider following his own amusement and her astonishment.

She looked back at the mansion. She could definitely spend the rest of her life in a place like that. She had to consider it.

"We can't buy that... can you even pay it?” she frowned at him, annoyed that he could be mocking when she dared to dream, of becoming a princess, even if it was just for a few days.

“With some savings, I have just recovered.” He shrugged, so childishly.

Now it made sense, all the hours he had spent on the phone, talking German, English, French and she even heard some Russian. During hours. She had no idea what he was doing but didn’t dare to ask yet, as the fragments on the conversation she had understood referred always to financial matters. In addition, he didn’t mind talking right in front of her. It was his way to say 'trust me' -like the usual.

“You have just rented a mansion... and you are even planning on buying it.” She left the luggage on the ground, around her, to approach and hug him, knowing he didn’t care one bit about those displays of affection. Yet he was polite enough to hug her back. “Thank you. It’s so beautiful.” She even dared to kiss him on the cheek.

"It's just an alternative hotel suite, with more rooms." She had definitely talked too much about the Austrian palace for him to consider buying a miniature of it.

“Of course not! I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to become Sissi!” She grabbed the luggage again, heading towards the pretentious gates. “Let’s see how I can compete with this… what can I give you?” She turned around with a cheerful smile, knowing there simple was no good gift for him. Whatever he wanted, he achieved it on his own.

And he simply wanted nothing from her... of her.

“According to my current identity I was born on the 1st of September, so there’s nothing you have to worry about.” And she had answered with a childish protest if his eyes hadn’t ordered her to shut up.

No, the best present for him was not to even mention it.

* * *

The night had fallen upon those gardens by the time she went back to the room where she had left him.

“I hope you like the house.” Johann was standing in front of the enormous stone fireplace as she appeared again through the living room door. She had decided to explore the building while he didn’t seem to have any interest, staying in the first room they had set foot on.

Of course, she liked it. It not only looked like a palace on the outside but also felt like one on the inside. The corridors alone stored more furniture and art that her entire previous apartments.

He crouched, taking some of the wood placed against the wall. It wasn’t cold at all.

“It’s just perfect. You did a great job…” Yes, she felt like a princess between those walls.

At least he wore that empty smile now. She was amazed by how easily that expression got plastered in his face, which almost seemed instinctive.

“I’m glad to hear it…” He was going to look for some matches, but Anna gave him a little box, anticipating him, smiling.

“Anyway… I’m still using my old salary as a reference for prices…” She shrugged, curious as that fireplace had been the only that caught his attention.

He liked fire, and that mere thought could make her nervous. Would that thought cross his mind, burning down that place, just for fun?

“Thank you.” He crouched again, striking a match, looking with barely hid fascination the flame before using it to ignite some papers he had also located next to the logs. It required some more matches until it finally seemed to work.

She left him there as she headed towards the kitchen, continuing that little exploration with the only room left. It was bigger than most of her bedrooms. She was pleased to see that the house seemed to be perfectly equipped, including a grand piano. With a little luck, she would be finally able to hear him playing.

There, in the table, a beautiful glass bottle was waiting for the new clients with a polite note on its foot. Smiling, she took it and returned to her brother, wondering.

She would do anything to see Johann drunk.

“Fancy some...” Anna checked the tags, uncertain of what exactly she was holding, "oh my, this is absinthe..." Her confident stare turned doubtful. She had heard about the green muse. “I just found it in the kitchen. It looks expensive… would you like to try it?”

His analytical stare was probably planning something.

“Do you want us to get drunk the first night in Austria?” She nodded, laughing. "Absinthe... interesting choice..." He stood, taking the bottle from her hands and checking it. "Mata Hari, 60%." He seemed amused, definitely, leaving the bottle on the coffee table and taking a couple of cushions on the sofa, placing them between this table and the fire while she brought to glasses from the kitchen. She followed his example and sat next to him, getting warm by the fire while wearing a summer dress.

“So… here we are… just a couple days ago in Russia, now in Vienna...” she filled a glass with the tiniest portion of that bright green liquid, that offered to him accompanied by her best waitress smile. "For you."

His eyes never left the flame that had started consuming the corner of a log, until then. Then his eyes reached the glass, clearly amused by that presentation. The bottle had fooled her, convinced it was ordinary wine instead. She had no idea what to do with absinthe.

He looked at the liquid with such an analytic stare, trying to predict the effects of that decision he was about to make. Then he drank, emptying the glass. He frowned immediately, his stare still on her, and his deadly paleness became a blush. Then it came to the coughing.

And finally the laughing. He could cough too, it seemed.

"It is... that strong?" Of course, it was, silly Anna, it was 60% alcohol.

Still holding a rather constrained expression, and his fist right in front of his mouth, he offered her the other glass. "Dare to." He needed to clear his throat and his voice sounded surprisingly hoarse.

"I dare." And it was a bad choice if someone with such self-control hadn't been able to hide the effects.

Her stomach burned first and then it came to the suffocating sensation on her throat and mouth, that coughing didn't ease.

"What the hell is this...?" Now it was her face burning.

"Pure absinthe." He whispered, standing up. "We need ice water and sugar to properly drink this." His footsteps got away and she could hear him opening the fridge and some cabinets, to finally come back with a plate, containing a jar of iced water, a bowl and a couple of spoons.

"You don't drink 60% of alcohol directly, Anna, unless it is meant for self-punishment or suicide." OK, he knew what to do. Good for him for saving the situation, and both their throats.

She silently observed him prepare the beverages like he actually knew what to do, diluting the drink with three portions of water at least and adding some of the sugar from the bowl.

"Have you tried it before?" She had to wonder.

That stare he offered then felt incredibly sweet.

"No, but I've read enough about Bohemianism to know what to do." His smile was indeed wide, mocking with that vague fondness that sometimes his eyes reflected.

She drew a shy smile, an honest one, and took her filled glass, raising it slightly. “Prost!”

He imitated her.

And both twins emptied their glasses again, not without a cautious look first. This time it actually tasted good.

“Uh… this is still rather strong.” She smiled, although she had never quite liked the taste of alcohol. Nor the effects. Sweets were a better alternative for her mouth and soul. Johann... did he? He never drank or seemed to be interested in any sort of drug, not even painkillers.

The time had come and the decision to finally ask that question that had been bugging her for hours. So after a few seconds of hesitation, she decided to wait no more, taking advantage of that mindless amusement and the alcohol.

“Hmm… can you explain better what you meant about your current identity? I didn’t know you had any…” The politest way to accuse him from hiding that information.

He left both their glasses on the plate, taking his time to answer.

“I’ve technically entered a witness protection program, so they insisted on giving me a brand new identity. That’s why you were never informed that I had woken up.”

“Oh…” she couldn’t avoid the questions over the topic, how the hell had him been offered protection, from all people who actually deserved it, and how had he been able to convince the police I order to buy his freedom. “Can you tell me more about it?”

A bright smile on his face and his eyes glowed in the golden light of the fireplace. Nothing like the unfair treatment he had received and didn’t deserve to make her question her own concept of justice, again.

“It’s extremely long and boring, even for an attorney, but summarizing, you made a terrible mistake.” Turning completely towards her, he leaned an arm on the table, trying to get somehow comfortable, look like. “You have never reported me, thus without your witness statement, there is virtually no crime I can be accused of, apart from Junker’s. Not enough to build a solid case reflecting properly the severity of my behavior. The remaining are just suspicions, speculation. At most, circumstantial evidence. Therefore, I have to thank you, sister, because it’s actually your fault that I could buy my freedom back that easily and be reborn as a completely new man.” He was doubtful about whether she had made that decision consciously or had been a mistake in her attempt from escaping him.

She never tried to protect him, truly. But she had never actively tried to blame him either, so her role in the early stages of the processing was limited to answer the questions of the police, the attorneys, the doctors, not giving a bit of extra information. She was protecting herself, her privacy, even if that meant protecting him too.

“The only logical explanation is that you expected me to either die or stay indefinitely on a coma…” That too.

Who might believe someone could survive with no apparent damage to two bullets on the brain?

She rubbed her hands, eyes cast down for some precious moments. That was how Johann could turn an interrogatory against her.

“I had no idea what to expect, but I didn’t want to turn you into a freak show that would also drag me to the spotlight. I think it’s fair to assume that we have exactly the same opinion on that matter... to avoid any sort of fame.”

He shocked his head slightly. There was no way to change topics if he didn’t want to.

“This is not about fame, the opinion of the press or the general public. We are talking about how you protected a serial killer from the police, sister. That’s what you did, become my accomplice.” He remained silent for some seconds, checking any reaction from hers before talking again. “I was astonished when the police came to visit me, my attorney, and I could completely rewrite the events of basically my entire life just because you decided to remain silent, forcing anyone else to do the same. Dr. Reichwein and Gillen had little to do against me after your personal verdict, so all their frustration deviated towards a speculative psychological analysis. I guess no one cared much about me anyway, once in a coma.” He turned around, filling both glasses again. Then she noticed that he was pouring more sugar on hers, just as she preferred.

“Wait… didn’t Dr. Tenma accused you of killing the doctors in the hospital…?” She was sure of that.

Johann’s smile was slow, confident and dangerously amused. He played with Dr. Tenma as a toy, even now.

“Do you really think the police will truly believe that I was capable of poisoning three adults at the age of 10, by myself, all of a sudden? No, killers aren’t born one day, as you know, criminal behavior escalates until reaching that final step." He offered her glass back, keeping the amused tone. "And over all, children aren't meant to be killers.”

No, children weren't considered suspects unless strong evidence was present or at the very least there was previous criminal behavior. Thus, he only had to make a story for that other time, the moment he shot that man in Düsseldorf. He, who was only nineteen by the time, killed in cold blood a criminal, what could be easily stated as self-defense. He was capable, especially against the witness statement of Dr. Tenma, who had no experience with the law. Dr. Tenma was overwhelmed, scared, and probably didn’t understand the situation. Johann was defending himself. That had probably been his argument.

He waited patiently, taking minuscule sips from that drink while she reordered both her thoughts and her knowledge of criminal law.

Everything around him was too complex, and therefore the investigation too long, slow, confusing. Too many people involved. A criminal with a professional knowledge in law, who couldn’t be broken in any interrogatory because he simply had no known weak spots to attack.

“You haven’t escalated, your first crime was murder, they all are.” She wasn’t exactly accusing him, but her voice turned bitterer than she intended.

“My first crime was actually arson, remember that I burned down the Three Frogs right before our escape. Then it became murder.” That was a fast escalation, wild. “But it is not my main interest, sister, but chaos and destruction. Murder is most of the time just a means to an end.” He nodded, so childish, convinced of his own mindset. He could perfectly distinguish right and wrong, but in no case, he cared about that separation. She was no longer interested in his morals either, not when all she wanted was to understand him.

And his crimes were probably the best showcase.

She nodded, realizing how little she actually knew about them. A vague estimation of the number of deaths, the myth created around him, like the one the neo-nazis in Frankfurt told. Brief mentions of a laundering business. That was all. She decided to try and understand his inner mechanism, the real motives behind his actions, what he got from them. His modus operandi too.

He continued his own train of thoughts, guessing hers.

“Being a statistical outlier benefited me and…” he leaned towards her. “I was actually expecting something similar, yet it was surprising how eager the authorities, the police, were to erase me. All they wanted was to keep me quiet, that’s why the negotiations went so swiftly.” His cheerful expression froze. “However, I’m sure I would have been killed otherwise.”

“I don’t believe you…” It sounded like a ridiculous conspiracy. It was the 21st century, governments didn’t execute annoying criminals without a fair trial... no?

“I might have also suggested I would start a procedure against both the German and Czech governments for state crimes if my condition was made public again. They were reckless enough to offer me an unbiased attorney and never consider changing that.” After so much abuse, he now mocked the state that finally offered him some basic rights. And so, he offered a childish smile before getting on his knees, suddenly excited. So awake, compared to his usual self. “Anyway, the combination of the vague accusations against me, the ridiculous myth surrounding the figure of Johann Liebert, my willingness to negotiate with valuable information combined with the witness protection program was enough to buy my freedom.” The glass reached then his lips. Hers too.

She didn’t dare to consider any of that procedure easy, regardless of his words. Yet Johann had been intelligent enough to use the clueless system, unable to establish a solid protocol against a legal phenomenon like him, and obtain whatever he wanted. Even if he didn’t want anything at all. No, he had just tried how far his skills could get him and there he was, walking freely again with absolute legal immunity. Because the world was that corrupted and Germany was no exception.

And he smiled at her probably serious stare, knowing his mere existence was cracking her faith in... anything she might believe in.

“Do you regret it? Letting me live free?” He dared to ask.

“No...” She did. He knew and that smile became wider. “But it’s disappointing to see how easy it was for you to get free.” His stare went back to the fire, lost in his thoughts.

He turned to grab his glass, emptying it.

“I agree. The German government doesn’t seem to show any real concern regarding the safety of its citizens, and it’s disappointing, despite the so-called democracy. Impressions and appearances are all that matter and it’s going to be the ruin of many modern societies.” His voice felt surprisingly honest, forgetting all its previous mockery.

It wasn't the first time he shared his ideas on political matters and he surprisingly showed a solid opinion on most topics. An informed one. She had never dared to ask him directly though, so now was the perfect moment.

“Do you think the East was better?” She wasn’t expecting him to be a socialist, though.

He didn't expect her to believe that either. That's what his expression said.

“I do. Regardless of how corruptible it is, I prefer it.” He smiled, looking back at her to enjoy her astonished expression. "Instead of a weak democracy that the right circumstances can throw into the abyss of populism, to finally create just a new version of fascism."

She frowned, so exaggeratedly.

“Then... you are actually a socialist...” He was playing with her, he had to. He had always shown a preference for leftist politics but... she never expected him to actually root for the far-left idea of a state.

His smile was a proud one, but the contempt could be there, lying beneath.

“I am the living example of how far manipulation and propaganda can get you. I’ve made countless people kill and die for me, destroy their own lives for my amusement. I’ve made my previous victims offer me their homes, hearts.” That was her. “There is no limit to what a pleasant appearance and calculated behavior can do. All you need is a clear objective and the will to sacrifice everything in you for that goal.” Another smile, a shark-like one. “That is what you call charisma. And democracy the best environment to practice it.”

Johann wasn’t meant to be a killer. He was designed to be a leader of men. She tended to forget that.

“Then… why haven’t you ever got involved in politics? Not seriously...” What sort of leader was he?

“I’ve spent quite some time with far-right parties, much more than you think. I’ve just never been interested in becoming a public figure.” She considered them more like organized crime than political parties, at least the ones in Frankfurt... were there any others... Munich... any...?

His glass was empty yet another time, and she was confused and annoyed, wondering how he could be immune to alcohol.

“So... you are a communist that prefers to work for the national socialist ideology...”

“Exactly!” He suddenly raised his voice in childish enthusiasm. “I thought it was rather funny that someone like me, from Slavic origin and educated in the Eastern bloc would become the preferred leader by those radical German nationalists. Don’t you think?”

It was indeed ironic.

“Well... aren’t we supposed to have German blood... from father...?”

And then, at that very moment, Johann’s expression softened as it had never done before.

“Yes, father was ethnically German... Yet he was born in Czechoslovakia, just like our mother, and regardless of his name nor language, there was no German diaspora in Czechia anymore, nor we have ever been educated by him. To sum up, his German influence never reached us beyond his genes, if there’s any real difference between Czechs and Germans on that matter. Germany is a foreign country for us and also its language. Even if it eventually substituted ours.”

They hadn't mentioned that man more than a couple of times and his reaction had been avoidance. Now he seemed to foster some... what, interest... hope? For that who had represented their father. That man they had never met, but their mother idealized so much. She decided to store that incredibly valuable information for the future while trying to regain control over that drunk conversation that started exposing their state with its chaos.

Johann was indeed drunk. He would have never exposed himself like that if not... no? No, therefore it was the moment to push him further. Now or never.

“What do you think... about father?” He might answer whatever crossed his mind, she was hoping for that.

But his silence destroyed all hope. He wasn’t drunk enough to talk without a second thought.

“Being honest, I’ve been curious, very curious. From what we know he represents everything I was meant to aspire according to Kinderheim 511, the perfect example of a communist soldier. I thought about him very often back in the day.”

She had never drawn that parallelism between the two of them, ever. But it was right, for Johann, that man had been defined as a role model once, even if he didn’t consider him such a thing. She was about to ask further but he was faster.

“And you? Would you like us to have met him?” She hadn’t, never actually cared about him, not as a father anyway. That man was nothing more than a picture hidden in a book, a handsome soldier with a charming smile, so nameless and voiceless that only represented a ghost from the past.

Suddenly her hand reached Johann’s jaw, carefully holding it steady. And him, who suspected her train of thoughts offered her a completely dead stare. Now that she held that image in her mind she could confirm that Johann resembled him, even if their features weren’t the same.

Father and son indeed looked alike, even if they weren’t such.

Because family was a concept they had been deprived of. Especially him, in his ostracism.

He leaned backward, freeing himself. Her hand redirected to the glass. He decided to finish that topic off, for good, in what was a shameful and direct way for his standards.

“Although I don’t mind talking about our parents, I’m sure we both prefer to keep today’s conversation a little more casual.” As lovely as his voice sounded, his eyes were nothing more than a threat, still. And that threat suddenly became the brightest light. “In compensation, I offer you another gift, one better than this mansion, I’m sure that it will be your opinion... Until the sun rises again, ask me, whatever you want to know, I don’t care, I’ll offer you nothing but my truest sincerity.” As to reinforce his words he decided to empty his glass once again, while hers remained mostly full. His fingers caressed the delicate material, to finally pour some more green liquid.

He had to be drunk by now. It was the only rational explanation.

“Anything... anything?” That was indeed a birthday gift.

“Absolutely anything. It doesn’t matter how intimate, mundane, explicit or amoral.” His expression was a twisted combination of childish excitement and violent melancholy. “Don’t hold me responsible if you can’t handle the answer, though...”

Oh... that was indeed an interesting proposition. And she was grateful... so grateful she made a terrible mistake. “Let’s make it more interesting, I offer you the same...”

A lovely laugh left his mouth.

“No, today is not between equals. This is a gift, not meant to be returned.” It wasn’t his birthday. He wanted no gifts. “You deserve to be relaxed, not afraid of a sudden bout of generosity that you might regret for the rest of our time together.” Like the one she had just made, and he noticed.

Once again, he proved himself right.

“OK... let’s see...” She should try him first. There were so many questions... she had no idea where to start, how.

“I advise you rather concrete questions if you truly want to exploit these...” he checked the clock behind them, “seven hours, approximately.”

“OK...” She had the first one. “Do you regret anything you have done?” His smile was back, probably pleased to foresee her question.

Yet he played the role and thought for a little.

“No, I don’t understand regret like you do, definitely not. I guess I regret everything from a global perspective, that I happened to exist.” His tone didn’t differ from any small talk.

He didn’t seem to regret killing the Lieberts anymore, in his shallow concept of such feeling. Yet she nodded, pleased with that vague answer, moving on to the next question.

"Why have you been trying on families, changing so often?"

He made a lovely grimace, that didn't make any sense in that context nor to his answer.

“I had two main purposes: learn to be a functional member of society and actually try to become one.” He suddenly lowered his gaze. “It’s only recently when I gave up any chance of normality. However, I’ve tried plenty on the past, with every family, city: forget everything, as you did, and move on, survive.” He hadn’t ever told her that, no, his past excuses had been vaguer and more focused on the education matter. He had never professed a clear desire for mundanity.

“So... you want a normal life...” She leaned back against the table edge, an uncomfortable decision, thinking. There had to be something between her normalcy and madness, a middle point he could call life. It existed... it had to. Even now. Whether he could achieve that mental state was a whole different topic. But for now, she was pleased to understand where it was.

“Not a question, but yes.” She glanced over him, who still was fascinated by the fire in front of them, not even blinking.

“Explain more.” It was meant to sound like a command.

“I want to be happy, just like you: take pleasure in the company of others, the taste of sweets, hobbies, studies. Feel pride in achieving goals and disappointment for failing. Feel sadness for what is lost. Be moved by artistic expressions.” She tried not to look surprised for those words she had secretly expected, yet it was disturbing to actually hear them. “But I can’t, apathy, boredom and finally wrath win over, constantly, making impossible to follow a coherent existence, long term projects, healthy relationships... all the hard work for nothing. But I don’t like it, not one bit.”

She had observed that facet, the mood swings, the annoyance, and boredom because being alive was just that, too boring. His uneasiness, that finally turned into anger bouts followed by misery. He hadn’t been able to completely conceal that part of him. It wasn't that hard to repress the part of her who could only answer with anger to that fatalism of his.

“And what about our traveling during the last weeks? Did you enjoy it?”

“It was indeed distracting.” Johann worked better when he buried himself with work, projects, plans, whatever intellectual activity was able to keep his mind busy.

“And... do you have any plans for now? Besides the traveling...” He smiled but she meant what she said. She was the one dragging him to life and therefore assumed her responsibility. Even if it meant the end for them both.

He turned towards the fire again, to stay silent some seconds.

“I plan on doing nothing.”

She frowned, that answer was a dangerous one.

“What about music, writing... art?” It was an accusation. She had been promised an artistic brother and wanted him.

“I might invest some time on them, but that's all.” He concluded, suddenly detached from the conversation.

“But... you need something... some sort of project..." She sighed, knowing it was time to give up... for now. That was a conversation they could have any other time and his answers were actually reminding her that.

Fine then.

“Tell me about that new identity.” His expression was already too bored. “Even if it’s just for safety, in case I ever have to expose you.”

His eyes showcased his doubt. Yet he had promised an answer and was willing to give one.

“My current name is Johann Rosenbaum. I was born on the 1st of September of 1978, in Nuremberg. I’m orphan, no parents nor siblings known. I’ve spent my entire life in that city until I moved to Berlin to study Economics and Law.”

An entirely new story, rewritten from the scratch, because his pretty face and charms could even get him that. Courtesy of the German state to one of its most prolific criminals. The name surprised her, though.

Now it was her who searched for his eyes and him to answer back with an apathetic stare. She knew the answer even before asking.

“Your new name is Johann... was that your choice?” His expression didn't change one bit. It was her imaginations, that name meant nothing to him.

“No. I think my psychiatrists argued it might be a good idea to create a similar story and name so they could work on helping me embrace that new identity afterward.” His smile was as amused as it could be, finding that explanation so funny. Which was another topic, his recovery. From his comments here and there, she understood he had been under heavy medical surveillance, his mental health being the main reason.

It was a funny idea though, how those names that simply represented small portions of their childhoods had become their definitive adult identities.

Anna and Johann. Both back to life.

Yet Johann wouldn’t share a surname with her anymore, no. Johann Liebert had finally died. Just like Nina Fortner. It was surprising to discover the anger and disappointment that made her feel, yet dull. In a certain way, she was embracing their past while he was simply rewriting it.

“Johann suits you.” She had liked the name back in the day, associated with that 7-year-old him, and now... she was glad he had been forced to drag that name and all its meaning. He was allowed a new identity but the reminder was there, even if he would just check his documents a couple of times in a lifetime, she would still call him by that. “OK, that’s the official information but... have you thought about anything else? Personality, tastes...” he could create one in a second, but he was cautious enough to have the first draft already designed.

The glass reached once again his lips, taking a sip.

“I’m not interested in new identities right now.” His stare was vacant, pensive. Sleepless nights dedicated to that matter for nothing. What to do with an unwanted persona? “I don't plan on having any sort of meaningful contact with society.”

She nodded, even if they both knew she disliked the idea, she couldn't deny the relief his own isolation made her feel.

“I... I would like to know more about your recovery if you don’t mind... you have mentioned several times about psychiatrists but...” he had made sure the information was vague and confusing.

He decided to ponder over the topic, and for some long seconds, his eyes were more interested in the fire than her.

“As soon as I woke up, my mind just broke. For weeks I remained completely dissociated, I had several identities and voices in my head and nothing made any sense. I existed in my own realities. I’m used to hallucinations, but nothing compared to that. Maybe it was just psychosis. I must have been a complex patient since doctors were so desperate with me, not knowing where to start.” And he was pleased to share that, just to get a disturbed expression from her. “Then, one day, everything went back to normal.”

She was curious to know how was that experience for someone like him, what he had felt and thought during those days. But that wasn’t a question that could be answered with words, so she remained silent.

“You just broke... like that? For no reason?” There could be many organic mechanisms she simply didn’t understand.

He finally turned, smiling.

“No, it was at the moment I saw myself in a mirror. It triggered all my memories, I broke down into tears and then it happened.” He surely knew how to depersonalize his own experiences, making that interrogatory so easy and awkward at the same time.

Then it was her the one who escaped the other's stare by looking for the fire, warm, too warm, but undeniably beautiful.

It was indeed difficult to imagine him crying, or in any situation that would make him look weak or vulnerable. Johann could make mistakes, seem confused or ignorant, he didn’t care much when it came to her and he showed her. Although he would never, absolutely never, expose himself being vulnerable. Ruhenheim had been the one exception, and only as he was convinced of dying.

He tilted his head, what was his way to ask her about her current thoughts.

“It’s just a little... weird... to imagine you crying... that’s all...”

He smiled again, slowly and mechanic.

“I’ve cried plenty of times, both as a child and an adult, but you’ll never see it again.” And once more, those words shaped a threat.

“Why?” The question came out of her mouth without a second thought, not even knowing what exactly she was asking.

He did, focusing his attention on the absinthe before offering any answer.

“I don’t have any reason to offer updates on my ongoing state.” And tears were indeed informative. “Do you?”

Of course, she had, for the simple reason of sharing, even if it was him the one listening. She had shared her happiness, excitement, annoyance, sadness... all the time during the last months, as soon as she was feeling, with the sole purpose of offering him a normal communicative bridge. He listened to her with mild curiosity, mistrust even, while sharing in his own way, as long as those emotions belonged to a different time from his speech. Yet she didn’t quite comprehend his reasons either.

Time to change topics. Gazing at the plate, of silver probably, she decided to grab her glass and try that exotic beverage again, under his curious supervision. Once the glass was safe on the table she moved, sitting completely oriented towards him, legs flexed, while he seemed more relaxed, his long legs almost reaching the chimney.

“Have you... really recovered? That easily?”

He shrugged, deciding to change topics too.

"I'm hungry." The astonishment in her face was surely exaggerated, but the surprise behind it was completely natural. Johann could register hunger, it seemed.

She watched him leave towards the kitchen, trying to discern the motivations over his hunger because there had to be some. Maybe he was just feeling capricious, maybe he needed some extra time to ponder his answer. It might be he was feeling too sensitive to the alcohol, looking for something to slow down its absorption.

When he came back he was holding three metallic boxes of what seemed pastries. When he was close enough for her to read their labels, he showed her the bigger one, which stored those Austrian cookies she knew so well.

Vanillekipferl.

For one second, she felt lucky, which were the chances of being gifted her favorite cookies in a rented mansion, then she was convinced Johann had made sure they were there. Maybe the absinthe had also been his idea.

It made much more sense.

He left that box on her lap and the other two on the table. Then she could see them, one storing some cookies with jam and the other with chocolate and nuts.

As soon as he was sitting, she offered him the Vanillekipferl, and he accepted, taking one.

After biting it and staring at the fire in silence, he decided to answer.

“I don’t know what exactly you understand by recovery, probably it’s very different from mine. But I’ve been able to reach a similar mental state compared to before the coma, what I consider good enough.” His eyes went back to the cookie, to bit it again.

“But you have dealt with some doctors... no? You have mentioned several psychiatrists...”

His expression was pure dramatism, seeming eager to share his thoughts over the topic.

“I was interrogated by psychiatrists during hours, on a daily basis, as soon as I woke up. My first interviews, while dissociating, were compelling, although I can’t remember any of them. But I exposed enough for them to develop several hypotheses they tried to confirm afterward. I remained silent once my condition improved, but they were insistent, trying to convince me to try therapies, drugs, etc. Thus, I was still being interrogated after my recovery, during my negotiations with the police.” It was an interesting choice, ‘interrogation’, to describe the behavior of the doctors.

She really wanted to know.

“What did they say about you?” It wasn't a casual question even if she tried to make it sound like that.

He suddenly made a grimace, adorable, before getting lost in the flames, trying to reminiscence a list he probably remembered perfectly.

She was eager to know and he indulged himself with that silence.

“They mentioned some personality disorders: antisocial, borderline and schizoid among others I can't remember, too many classes of depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, amnesia, dissociation, paranoia, psychosis, Cotard’s syndrome... some more diagnosis I don’t remember nor understood... oh, yes, I was told about the possibility of suffering schizophrenia too. And of course, dissociative identity disorder, better known as double personality, because of your influence.” His expression showed actual pride for that terrifying list of labels. He had confused those poor doctors and surely had enjoyed the entertainment. That was the only possible explanation she could find. Yet she was left to wonder how disturbing it was to get an insight into what was going on in that head of his, how much was Johann’s ignorance over his own condition that a professional on mental health could identify.

“And... what do you think about that list?”

“I think I was successful in messing with them.” She deserved a boring answer to the wrong question.

“I mean... do you think you are... insane?”

It was his time to focus on another cookie.

“I don’t think so, but maybe that’s the very first symptom of my insanity.” She was still far from being able to understand his expression at that very moment. To even describe it. “Psychiatry is just a structured classification of those behavioral patterns that deviate from normalcy, incapacitating those considered patients from enjoying normal stable lives. Thus, those patterns are considered pathological." A pause. "This is the definition of madness.” He drank again and decided to try on the jam cookies. “I do have a deviant behavior, thoughts, identity and they surely incapacitate me for anything close to a normal life. So yes, I’m probably insane, whether I’m a sociopath or a schizophrenic.” He had contradicted himself but he didn’t seem to mind it.

“You defined yourself as a psychopath once...” His eyes were sparkling of amusement.

He loved that word and thus nodded.

“Yes, and also called you one. I wasn’t a clinical diagnosis, of course, but a cliché word used in mass media to define people like me, a word meant to scare you. The same happens with serial killer, which, as you know, is a legal term.”

“What is so different from calling yourself a monster...?”

“Little. Another overused term, this time free of any medical or legal connotations, more mythological.” He shrugged. “You can use devil or beast if you prefer biblical terms. All of them are used to define what is different than the normalcy, and considered worse.”

“Different?”

He laughed, such a lovely sound.

“Repeating the last words is indeed an effective method to keep a monologue flowing but it’s not going to work with me.” And just like that, he returned to his most casual tone.

“OK... well, there’s a topic I really want to discuss with you.” She got closer like they were meant to share a secret away from strangers’ ears. Even when alone in a mansion. “I know it’s a very complex topic and that you might not even have an answer, but the other day, when you told me about...” she frowned, trying to find the words. He offered some mercy.

“I know what you mean. Just make the question.” He had turned towards her.

“When it comes to the question whether you are a matter of nature or nurture, I’ve always thought of the latter but you made a comment...” Her smile tried to be comforting, for someone who needed none. “Do you... think... you were born like this?”

It was just a second, but she could swear he seemed uncomfortable with that question.

“Finally, I was starting to wonder when we would get to the interesting topics.” His fingers reached her elbow, arranging a rebellious lock of hair. “This was meant to become a merciless interrogatory, not a gentle conversation. Show me, how brutal you can be.” She was aware that he was trying to distract her.

She took some time to focus her attention on a cookie. Her stare as it returned to him turned ice-cold because that was how much he could influence her.

“Then answer.” A pause. “But I have my own way to do things, whether you like it or not. Even if it’s less effective.” And that was her pathetic way to show the opposite.

“One day I’ll teach you, just in case...”

She felt compelled to show him otherwise.

“You are changing topics. Just answer the question.”

He remained motionless, maybe pleased by her attitude, willing to offer the answer.

“I do think I was born broken, otherwise I would have never gone that far.”

“You mean... like a criminal?” His answer wasn't enough.

“In every single aspect of my existence. I don’t think my life experiences are enough to justify what I’ve become.”

It was enough, more than enough.

“But... do you remember it? How you were before?”

“I think so, and I can’t find real differences from what I am now either. I’m just a slightly worse version of myself.” His stare, that had been devouring the flames, came back to her. “Do you remember something different?”

She did... Johann had been kind once, innocent in his own way. She remembered that boy, so different from who she found waiting for her with a gun.

“You were a child once, Johann, I remember it perfectly.” One she could mourn.

Yet he really had to smile in that predatory way.

“What do you think, am I still as lovely? I’ve practiced a lot since then.”

No... please no. Yet his stabbing continued. “I remember a few things about our childhood... but that’s one, the first thing I’ve ever learned: to do whatever it takes to become the most lovable creature in the world for that my interlocutor. Once you were my ultimate goal, also mother... later the whole universe.”

She remained silent, processing the incredible blow she had just received. They had mentioned that many times, but he never confessed that the odd and cute child she had once known was as fake as the charming man sitting right next to her. He was meant to be a child more dangerous than the one she remembered, more broken... not utterly false. As obvious as it felt right now.

Could it really be, that he had already learned to manipulate, still so young?

“I’m sure. If you analyze those memories, you’ll find out that I’ve become the adult version of that child you remember. The child, the adolescent that came back from the Kinderheim 511 and the current version of me are nothing more than the same image I decide to project for you. The one I think you might prefer.” He tilted his head. “I can change it, of course. If there’s any trait of my personality you don’t like just say it, and I’ll redesign it. Same if you want a completely different brother.”

In those moments she hated him, intensely, the same way he had hated him as a monster. And she hated her own reaction over a fact he never tried to hide, how easy it was to fool her into thinking that the person in front of her might exist, deep inside.

Her stare turned cold and his too, yet his intention was to remind her of what lied beneath.

“Be more talkative.” She answered. “I want to know more about your ongoing thoughts, feelings... whatever crosses your mind.”

He nodded, in childish enthusiasm. And his answer didn’t correspond that gesture.

“I might try in the future, but it doesn’t sound like fun. What's the point of sharing meaningless ideas?”

She decided to skip that question and stay focused on a topic she wasn't willing to abandon just yet.

“Still, I don’t understand it.” She looked at her own hands, over her laps, like they held any answer. “Why are you so sure you... were born?”

He leaned his head backward to look at the ceiling dramatically. His head turned slowly towards her, in that rather uncomfortable position. Just another smile adorned his lips.

“I would be terrified if you had a clear picture of me, considering how little information I've given you and all the noise these fake personalities add to the equation.” Another childish smile, slowly drawn. “Not to talk about all the disinformation coming from the police investigation, the doctors. Your friends.”

Then she forgot the promise to herself and moved on, leaving one of the most important questions she had unanswered. Because Johann just wanted such.

“You are able to do that... get someone with that little information.” She shrugged, feeling a hint of disappointment at her inability to overpower him.

“I’m able to start working on someone with little information, but expecting to get much more during the process. I might act like I know everything, but it’s just an intimidation tactic.” He sat straight in such a fast movement that startled her. “Allow me a question, please. What sort of superpowers do you actually think I have?” That smile, so soft, was as charming as it could be. The border of the glass reached his lips and he drank half of its content. She had lost count of how many glasses he had emptied.

That was also her question, what, of all that magic, were real deeds he should be accounted for. She could ask about so many of them, yet she considered the easier ones first. The bloodless ones.

“Did you really fund a bank at the age of fifteen?” His expression was a mocking one.

Then he laughed. And at that moment, she noticed his almost unnoticeable blush, whether it was a matter of the light, the fire or the alcohol. Maybe her imagination.

“Yes, or maybe no, depending on whether reality adjusts to that oversimplified sentence. I’ll tell you the whole story so it will make some sense.” He took a deep breath, theatrically so. “After we separated, I got really, really angry. To you, to everything that happened to us, to me alone. Years went by and it didn’t diminish, it didn’t matter how mundane my daily life was, how violent I became. All I could focus on was the purposelessness of any existence.” Exactly like he did now, according to his own words. “When we were 14, I finally tracked down one of the instructors in Kinderheim 511 and I was planning to project all my wrath on that excuse of revenge. As it turned out, that man, politicist on communist doctrine back in the orphanage, had decided to betray his faith for the enemy and was involved with far-right parties. He tried to recruit me and I agreed, as his sincere change of heart made me curious, thus I chose to become his pupil once again, this time on national socialism. A few weeks later I was introduced to more people in those spheres. They saw potential in me and I took advantage of the education they offered me in order to turn me into a political leader, as it had happened back in that orphanage. It was at that moment when I got involved in their project of money laundering. They were just starting, I got interested and was allowed to be a part of it, to learn. At first, I was a silent observer and eventually, I became an advisor and finally chief.”

“It’s still impressive...” but now sounded realistic, somehow.

“Is it, though? Can you recall how many hours you have invested in your social life, hobbies... aikido?" Even sleeping, he didn’t waste his time in such activities. But even this more realistic alternative kept being outstanding. Johann didn’t have superpowers, true, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t a damn prodigy.

Unlike her.

“I guess most of what has been told about you are exaggerations...” Her admiration there, looking at him in the same way she had back then. And his confused eyes confirmed. He leaned towards her until his head lied on her shoulder while looking at her. He was definitely drunk.

She really got to see Johann drunk, even in his speech was as flawless as usual, his movements. His extra caution was there.

“I made sure to be pictured as an Angel of Death because it was simply useful for me. It was easier to influence others as fame proceeded me and it paradoxically also helped to anonymize me, so I was safer.”

“How did it make you safer?” Did he really gain that much respect, fear?

“Nobody believed those tales corresponded to the teenager I was, so I got myself into an interesting situation in which barely anyone was aware of what I knew or did. Fantasies hid reality and I turned myself into a ghost.” Misinformation was a powerful tool indeed.

“Then... were you really worried about your safety?” She had to wonder.

“Of course.” His smile seemed so sincere. “We are talking about political parties financed by organized crime, Anna, and I had no friends there, not real ones. I simply made myself useful, yet if I made the tiniest mistake I would have been executed.” He moved, sitting straight once again. “I planned to get myself killed back then, when I destroyed the laundering business. But then you decided to sacrifice everything to chase me, and so did Dr. Tenma. I was worried any hitman would get to me before you had the opportunity to pull the trigger.” His voice did really sound worried.

“Did you really care about that? Who kills you...” She couldn’t conceive it, compared to the idea of losing one’s life.

“It’s certainly less boring to die out of personal revenge instead of at the hands of a hired assassin.” And he made a pout. “And I wanted to know whether you would be capable of pulling the trigger again...” A sincere lament, followed by an intense stare. "I wanted you to have the opportunity to amend your mistake."

He might have a slight preference to die at her hands. That was all. But she was curious about his activities, as she had never read a report mentioning such things. Nobody knew where he got the money from, why the group in Frankfurt had such an interest in him.

“Wait a moment... why did the Baby need me to find you then? Weren’t you already involved with them?” It might be an excuse to kidnap her, and she had been easy prey.

“No, all I've told you happened in Berlin, and they didn’t have any contact with the Baby or his party in Frankfurt, not that I’m aware of.” He turned, looking at the clock. “I’m bored. I can tell you any other time about the dangers of organized crime. I want uncomfortable questions!” Slightly leaning his head to one side, he clapped a couple of times in one of the most childish gestures she had seen on him. It could have been even adorable if he hadn't added the most predatory stare upon her.

It seemed alcohol impulsed him to be more childish. Her eyes got lost in the fabric of his sweater and then the question came to her mind.

“Why are you always wearing turtlenecks?” It was her stupidest question that night, but she deserved to know.

“I’m not!” He frowned, what seemed almost offended.

He usually wore turtlenecks until they became too warm, being substituted by shirts.

“But you did, back... then. Almost always, is there any reason?”

His offended expression stayed, mixed with some sort of confusion, probably wondering whether she was accusing him of bad taste or not.

“I like them, they feel cozy and warm. They look good with blazers, fitting the image of a nerdy student I wanted to project.” He sentenced, which meant she was not going to get any further explanation. "Are you telling me I didn't look attractive?"

“Hmm... fair enough.” She offered a mischievous smile. “You look fine... but your current wardrobe is much better.”

“Anything to please you.” That was the smile of a knight who would do anything to indulge his lady. But that question wasn’t as casual as it seemed, and her sole purpose was to get him off guard if such thing was possible.

“Johann... are you drunk?”

His first answer was to empty his glass again.

“I am, indeed.” He smiled again. “Ethanol is, after all, a truth serum, so I thought it might be an interesting addition to your gift. Especially considering your extenuating kindness.” His piercing eyes upon her, intense as always. “Yet you see me drinking, as talkative as I can be and take no advantage.” His hand reached his own hair then, and a flock that threatened to get into his eye. "Ask, or I'll be the one doing all the questioning, I promise. And I've already stored a very long list of uncomfortable questions during these months."

He was slightly clumsier than usual, his gesture showed. That in front of her really was a drunk Johann.

"Tell me your secret, how can you get into others' minds like that, manipulate them so damn easily it seems a joke to you." She wanted to know, eventually, why not to ask now?

It was at that moment when all mockery drained from his face, all of it. And the serenity left evolved into blankness.

"My secret is simple, yet difficult to replicate." He paused, and for a moment she could imagine him trying to introduce himself in her mind. "You might feel this scenario as a conversation between two people, but the truth is, you are sitting alone, drinking alone, while I'm merely a force around you, pulling certain strings to guide your train of thoughts. It doesn't matter whether I'm here or not, it is you on your own. For you, and for me."

"What?" Anna could convey those comments of his, here and there, into some kind of a theory that embraced what her brother was. Yet they represented completely different realities, the vague idea of 'not-existing' or 'being her' compared to how they felt and conditioned him.

She would do anything to get into his head. Just for a moment.

"Explain better."

"It might be hard to understand if you have never experienced it. Your concept of identity has always struggled around memories but my situation is different, more complicated as memories and identity represent just a part." His pause was originally dramatic, but his eyes really exposed his doubt. "It's like I exist in several dimensions at the same time."

She frowned, as curious as terrified at the same time. Then Johann turned, sitting in the most comfortable position possible while the glass was abandoned on the table.

His stare had changed completely, eager, insane. Utterly disturbing.

"You might feel like you are contained within your body, considering that your consciousness is somewhere behind your eyes. That is the center of yourself and anything you register from the outside, the inside, uses that reference system. However, that's no longer my case. I once was like that, like you, everybody else, but at some point in my stay in Kinderheim 511, it changed. I don't know when or why and I don't care either. But it became a very different experience for me, existing. First, there is this body." He raised both his hands in front of his face, looking at them like they didn't belong there. "I know it's mine and no one can control it but I don't feel like I'm contained in it. For me it's more like a puppet, feeling distant, controlled by strings, sometimes even unreachable. That's also the reason behind my extreme lack of movements or gestures sometimes -I simply can't contact- like there is a fog in front of me." She had to make a great effort not to expose her astonishment to those curious eyes. "But it's not only my body that feels far from me. It also happens with whatever I feel, registering solely within a whole different reality. I realize emotions appear at certain points of time, because of what I experience or dream or think... or for no reason at all. But I rarely feel, instead, it's like I receive some sort of letter that exposes the ongoing emotional state and I just acknowledge it. There are some other times, extreme situations, when I'm forced to experience them at full force. Worse than they were before." For an instant, his attention went to her eyes, which he found amusing. "That's not all. Memories represent a new, independent dimension." She could see his hands in fists, over his lap. That very moment was the real gift he was offering, not a mansion or mindless chit-chat. "Imagine a library with plenty of bookshelves and a name written on the top of it. But they are not standing on the ground, no, some of them are built on the top of others, and others on the top of these ones. Like a tree. Well, each one of them represents an identity I have possessed at some period of my life. In the middle of it, the biggest one, the most important, it has been just left nameless... torn apart and burned. Now imagine some of the books in those shelves, perfectly ordered, while others have been thrown to the ground, open, pages stripped, scribbled. Entire books becoming piles of ashes. Most of those damaged books belonging to the nameless bookshelves, practically empty. That's not all, a few of them are open in a table near, showing nothing more than blank pages." At that point, she had stopped trying to control her face, and him, his voice, now a nervous babbling, almost. "And finally, a completely different dimension, consciousness, rationality... represented by wasteland with no beginnings nor ends: hostile, monotone, lifeless. Desolate. The remaining pieces of what should conform me stay in the dark, buried deep, and thus isolated, disconnected. They are there, all of them, but without light and air they'll rotten... sooner or later." His stare remained upon her as he caught his breath, in that desperate serenity his eyes seem to project. "That is me, who stands still in the middle of that doomsday scenario, alone, nameless, waiting for something to happen, maybe death."

She understood. A part of her really did.

Then he nodded, still obviously anxious in that drunken state like she had never seen him before. The confirmation was there, his insanity was much worse than he himself suspected. Johann's mind had really been broken in that place, that basement, exploding in a thousand pieces like a supernova. It was impossible to estimate how much it had conditioned his life, his existence... his crimes.

Not sure whether it was a good idea, she took one of his hands, those he could barely feel. He had lowered his gaze, looking at them and the firm grip he offered her.

"Thanks for sharing it with me." In contrast, her voice tried to become soothing.

He hadn't finished, though, offering her a final gift.

"That is why it's so easy for me to consider you a part of myself. You represent an additional dimension within that system, a reality in the shape of a field covered by the most precious flowers. And it's just through that place, you, that I can experience what it's like to be human, to have a heart." She had been too focused on their hands to discover he had already broken his promise, and a couple of tears, so silent, were rolling down his eyes. "Because it's only possible to feel through you, not by myself." The index of his free hand reached hers, drawing a line from the tip of her finger up to the hand, the forearm, until falling down to his lap, like dead.

Time passed by, seconds, then minutes, maybe hours. She preferred to let the moment linger, offer him a truce to put himself together, whatever that could mean to him. Anna had decided to conclude that night, he had already surpassed any expectations she had ever had on him. And she definitely needed some time to process that outrageous amount of information he had flung at her without previous warning. There were no more chances and if she ever dared to bring up that topic in the future and ask him further, he would simply ignore her. So she was left there, trying to understand, truly understand the meaning of it all.

Then Johann suddenly moved, tightening his grip to loosen it at equal speed, like recovering all his senses after a time in which he had remained completely still, like a statue. He first dried the remaining tears to look at her with that vulnerability still on his eyes. Yet he remained silent, still away from that place reality was.

"We should call it a night..." she whispered, softly freeing her hands. With some hesitation she stood up, noticing she was indeed more drunk than she had suspected. Anna decided to take care of the plate, bringing everything back to the kitchen. She would clean up tomorrow, first thing in the morning.

When she got back, Johann had barely moved, going back to a comfortable position in front of the flames, all his attention focused on them.

"Hmm..." She shouldn't disturb him. "Good night, Johann..."

Then he looked at her like the fire had lost all interest, with the usual expression that had recovered all its self-control. He remained once again motionless, lost in his own world.

He still had a surprise left.

"Can I stay with you tonight?"


	3. In vino veritas (II)

Johann felt as if the bedsheet was about to absorb him, them, and initialize a strange process of metamorphosis that would culminate in something majestic, maybe a butterfly or a mockingbird... maybe just a moth.

If ever given a choice, he would be interested in becoming a dragon. In the idle hours of his adolescence the idea had taken form in his mind, like the most realistic of his fantasies, the bloodless one: how he would create a shelter in a faraway mountain, could be a cave, deep in the snow -the Swiss Alps offered a good environment to grow up a legend such as that- and simply exist, in a different nature that would offer him a more interesting experience than the one of being a member of humankind, either as a leader or an outcast. A dragon would become a fine leader of men. It ought to be the laws of nature.

He wouldn't mind being that one. For once the idea of leadership shone suggestive, bemusing even. The absolute tyranny of it -beyond any laws of men. Dragons had transcended from the collective imagination for no other objective than domination, why should he offer anything different?

Once upon a time, Johann had surrendered to those others’ desires, embracing the intoxicating fantasy of growing up to unleash a tyranny upon the earth. That had been the sole purpose of his childhood and, it proved an interesting time. More than any posterior adulthood anyway.

In such an exultant state of mind, he protectively embraced her -if there were wings, he would simply cover her- and decided to close his eyes, tightening that grip meant to protect, submit. Surprisingly, his conscience drifted away, rapidly. His deeper, much slower respiration accompanying hers now.

Alcohol indeed helped him to fall asleep... only to wake up minutes later.

The metamorphosis now complete, but instead of a monster or a dragon, he remained the same, becoming at most a simple snake. He closed his tired eyes again, concluding that trying to properly sleep the night off had been a mistake, and neither the absinthe nor her company were enough to ease his mind up to the deadly boredom that preceded somnolence.

Being human instead of a dragon was an utterly disappointing experience.

Looking at the chaos of dark blond hair in front of him, his attention parted from the nature of dragons to more mundane topics meant for mediocre humans.

Like solitude. Dragons couldn't feel any, he was sure, but people...

He ought some thoughts to that species he currently belonged to, at the expectation of transcending anytime soon.

Johann remembered that once he had felt something at the touch of another living creature -human or animal-, an emerging sensation of safety, calmness, that could culminate in the feeling of being loved. It had been a long time ago and so much had changed in the meantime. Now he was unable to wrap his mind around that idea, the link between the action -not sleeping alone-, and the reaction -safety, a home. A family.

There had to be a hidden variable, love among others, to explain such irrationality. Love was the spiritual counterpart of a shield, he recalled, against society, laws of nature, the entire universe, a source of immunity and strength. The reasons behind had always escaped his mind, though. Being his experience so scarce, the only source of information left was other people and despite being able to question others in that pathetic performance he designed and perfectioned over the span of years, of questioning its philosophical foundations, he soon discovered that his underlying logic -or lack of experience- proved to arise serious suspicions he couldn't risk anymore. And Anna was damaged enough not to serve as an alternative, staying in some intermediate position between him and them, all the rest. He wasn't certain she was able to love either.

He felt suddenly eager to understand if solely the connection between physical proximity and love. Which was yet another topic in which he had the least of experiences.

Johann had been hugged, kissed, cuddled, by Anna, mother, and some others who came later. He had tried both its innocent and more sexual counterpart. His reaction had varied, from the vague pleasure extracted during the early stages of his childhood -coming from those who represented his family back then- to an alarming sensation of repulsion that was followed by some sort of anger attack, one that few had survived. An experience closer to be traumatic than passable, regardless of how consensual the situation was on his own terms. At other times, all he had been able to experience was indifference.

While the experience of physical violation was foreign to him, compared to the memories of its psychological counterpart (regardless of any suggestion he might have made), he found himself being similarly triggered at any attempt of physical intimacy, concluding that either lust or love became equally repulsive at his eyes. He had tested them both extensively, on several stages of his life until being satisfied with his knowledge. His opinion was not important, though, as he was mostly interested in the relaxation that invaded the body in front of him as soon as his arms had surrounded her. He should ask her anyway, in case she could shed light on the matter.

No one should ever feel safe after being embraced by a monster. She was no exception, nor had any rational reasons to do so.

Neither humans proved a safe choice.

Another body could barely offer any protection against most damage, surely not against bullets. Flesh shouldn't feel safe, because it wasn't, and making that mistake could end one's life, in such an unexpected and predictable way.

Physical intimacy was not an expression of love, not a direct one. Intimacy should never be understood as an expression of love, but of many possibilities from which love was just one. Psychological intimacy, though... it was indeed an expression of love. He was sure of it.

Now two bodies lied under the sheets, in a random bedroom within a meaningless mansion. Her body stayed so close to his that he could feel the soft movement of her torso, the deep breathing of the sleep, her back leaning against his chest, and his arm surrounding her waist.

In his mind the image of kittens lying side by side. Safe and soft.

Anna's body was warm, surprisingly thin -more than his anyway-... and that was all. Now his body hugged hers and all he felt was the strangeness of it all.

Anna couldn't make him feel safe, she was too tiny, seemed too frail. Not even the fantasy was a viable course of action.

Anna couldn't offer warmth, yet he needed none, it was a summer night after all.

And Anna couldn't offer love. Nor he required any.

Then, what was the point of that performance of siblings’ innocent love? What was he expecting to achieve?

Johann sighed, disappointed with his mortality and what was much worse, bored. He knew how to be stealthy, though, enough to get out of bed, already giving up of thinking about falling sleep and what was worse, about love. There was so much to ponder about, all those interesting topics that arose after their conversation that night, starting with what exactly he had told her, and the real knowledge she had derived from his nervous exposition.

He was disappointed with his own lack of talent to offer her a proper exposition on the matter of his existence. He had predicted that the alcohol combined with the events leading to that very moment could have some effect on his state of mind, yet reality had surpassed any expectation in such a miserable way, offering her the most mediocre version of himself.

Anna had probably pitied him, being the last emotion he had ever wanted to trigger. It was so unsettling.

She might be thinking he had exposed himself without a second thought, but he had planned that conversation for weeks, starting toying with the idea months before. She could have already estimated his deplorable estate, there was so much he couldn't hide on a daily coexistence. She was being nice and brave with him and he had considered paying her back with that desire of hers to understand him better, whether it represented morbid curiosity or a real desire to add some sense to the figure of her brother.

Anna was going to keep the secret anyway and if she didn’t, he couldn't care less. Johann had never desired to expose himself to anyone but either feared it. How much of him was made public was defined by the further purpose of that information being vox populi. Most of the time possessing a certain level of humanity was required and thus his usually private nature.

His steps didn't perturb the absolute silence of those corridors, moving like a ghost in what was now his territory. Yet a drunk phantom.

He couldn't help but want to know about her thoughts on that topic: him. She had seemed utterly perturbed, she really considered him completely insane and that certainty scratched his mind -he equally wanted to know her thoughts on him, on herself, from her own perspective. See himself under a different light-. He might be even crazier. And then she turned so sweet and kind, a disappointing yet predictable reaction. He had begged for a merciless interrogatory and all he had been offered was a warm embrace for his soul, then his body.

Absinthe had been a curious experience, though. He was back at seeing those black lines appearing on the walls as he passed -he hadn't seen them since his adolescence-, like claws following the path. They used to turn bigger, like corruption expanding through the walls, to the ceiling... finally the floor. Sometimes required just a couple of minutes, others lasted for weeks. Absinthe was indeed triggering his imagination, like a desperate artist, uninspired.

Taking a look over that green bottle still lying on the kitchen counter he turned around, following again the corridor towards those unknown rooms with a clear goal in mind, the outside world.

Johann was going for a walk.


	4. In vino veritas (III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! Suicidal tendencies, a lengthier excursion into Johann's head

Once upon a time, there was a city bathed by the waters of the Danube River. A city meant to lead that empire that spread its tentacles from the very core of Europe towards the east. A reference to culture, art, science that could have conquered the world.

Now that city was nothing more than the ghost of what once was, still breathing from its former glory even when it implied suffocating. Mozart and Freud reduced to touristic assets, same with the Habsburg dynasty and their dramatic romances.

A shared destiny with Prague.

His consciousnesses flew over all his knowledge on that city whose streets he was wandering: Maria Theresa, the Battle of Austerlitz, Freud's psychoanalysis, the Vienna Circle, the civil war of 1934, the Anschluss... yet it swiftly departed from those old history lessons, too agitated to be able to focus on serious cogitations, those concepts, and events converging in a chaotic spiral of the absurd. Johann felt surprisingly stupid, and he was planning on enjoying every bit of that sensation, the lack of invasive trains of thoughts, obsessive over-analyses, focus. Neither his inner world nor the reality ahead offered enough stimuli to matter anymore. Could there be a sweeter sensation?

Weeks had turned into months and the memories lost so long ago returned to their legitimate proprietor, in the shape of vivid images full of color and darkness, of the same streets -narrow and chaotic paths-, the low contiguous buildings of pastel colors, the paving stones under his feet. He was wandering the same places again, like many other nights before, but for the very first time, he was attacked by a sensation of familiarity, of a lifetime trapped within.

And then a bolt of lightning annihilated that flow of thought, the sudden reminiscence offered with lethal clarity, that he was no longer in Prague, that the period of chase had ended with a second bullet and the familiar solitude had been softened by the entertainment of what Anna represented. It had been years from those chases of memories and ghosts of a childhood and a whole universe in between.

The simple realization that those streets didn't belong to Prague, not even Czechia... but Vienna. Austria. And sign in German had been necessary for him to remember.

Once upon a time, there was a city known as Vienna that felt just like another Prague, but it only made sense, tied by common history of German, central European culture, bloodbaths, annihilation, and more wars than humankind could reminiscence. He had never been to Austria before, just its former imperial territory that now represented Czechia, and Czechoslovakia back in his childhood. It was a curious thought, that neither Czechoslovakia nor East Germany existed anymore, places that represented so much of their lives, of many others like them who were forced -or gifted- with the era of post-soviet capitalism.

Enough of history lessons. Better to concentrate on the scenario ahead, the reality entangled. It could store some interesting experiences he was willing to explore if only to pass the time and test what was he capable of in that sweet mediocre state of mind.

His footsteps echoing through those empty streets he walked and walked, not knowing exactly where to go but following some instinct he preserved from past times. Maybe future ones.

His head raised toward the black skies like they could offer an answer to his clueless sensation of time and space. Vienna was just another Prague, the distinction between them turning meaningless: Czechia, Austria, east, west, past, future... could the skies, the angels promised beneath, talk to him like they had never done?

Could they tell him what time it was?

He expected only silence and his head lowered again after a few minutes. He had lost the track of time long ago and he supposed it to be sometime around 4 am.

No one was to be seen. Not a single soul. His own footsteps being the sole witnesses of yet another nocturnal adventure. His usual answer towards insomnia.

Johann walked, step after step, astonished and surprisingly annoyed by the uncomfortable feeling of wearing heels, the tension in his legs building up until they turned numb. Now he registered the same sensation even when his clothing reminded him of nothing of that time. That city, that time of day, however, were designed as a reminiscence of that unnerving fashion choice that high heels were.

Even if he wasn't in Prague anymore.

With such a memory he felt obliged to dedicate a brief thought to that naïve detective that once represented her love interest, whose dates ended with the same silent walks across the same city. He had never checked whether he was still alive and suddenly he was eager to find out more about that man. From what he had been told, the pass of the monster through Czechia was buried even deeper than the one in Germany so there was a chance that he was still looking for his Anna.

No, his sister had been given access to that tape from his childhood so it meant he had possibly been able to meet the real Anna Liebert. He promised himself to ask her again about that reunion, whether it ever happened, and if so, how awkward did it go. He was still fascinated by those human interactions that surpassed all the complexity and absurdity he was capable of handling.

He was indeed in his stupidest moments if he required such a long time to link those two facts together. The idea of surviving, like his sister wanted, but as a drunkard, started forming in the deepest corner of his mind as a plausible plan.

Yet something deviated his attention to the outside world, again, some light and sounds and voices too happy to be sober at that time of the day. Indeed he had reached, after what felt like years, a street crowded by happy people and the factory of that their happiness: bars.

The effects of the alcohol had mostly disappeared but the aftertaste was there in the shape of... he couldn't be so sure he wasn't drunk anymore. Maybe it was just the dizziness that had evaporated, leaving all the rest for him to enjoy.

And that was the tale of how Johann found himself in a foreign country, in an unknown city at a random street staring at a bar entrance that just looked like the one he used to frequent in Prague, even if the comparison failed to work. Even if that wasn't Prague anymore. He just waited, embracing the sensation of being a nameless monster once again, if only for an instant, understanding what had been his personal conception of happiness.

He missed nothing and no one, but his strongest concept to nostalgia was the bulldozing desire to permanently go back to that state of mind. The one he mostly enjoyed in Munich.

Thus he made a resolution, simple, fun, devoid of any danger if not for himself. Until the sun raised again, he was going to become again that nameless monster, enjoy the fantasy he had been deprived of for so many months.

'Happy birthday to myself.'

He wanted something. A gift of sorts. He hadn't celebrated anything close to a birthday in the last twenty years and now it seemed like a good plan, a treat to go back to that state of mind that represented the epitome of his recklessness.

Better to stay out of trouble, though, even if that meant to avoid any sort of social interaction. In fact, that mere thought made him feel even happier!

The plan changed again, and again and again on a fraction of a second until reaching calm waters, just like the ones that suddenly appeared in front of him.

The Blue Danube, in all its serene splendor, exposed as he reached the end of a street, under his feet. Johann realized then that he had never seen the ocean nor any lake before, only wastelands and labyrinths of concrete. Never water -not in that overwhelming immensity.

In front of him, the river divided the land in two, like an unbeatable force of nature, making it difficult to identify the shapes on the other shore, like erasing the world beyond. If only he could submerge the wasteland within to form those calm waters instead.

Suddenly interested -just one more time- in those surroundings, he looked down to that tiny path built a few meters from the water, following its stroke, that seemed to remain a few meters lower than the rest of the city. Finding some stairs accessing that path, his eyes followed them back up to find that they started close to him.

So he left the few laughs and chit chats behind, step after step until he was close enough to be able to drown. Being engulfed by those dark waters was fancied as the most pleasant of the deaths.

He decided to walk west, back to Germany.

Johann had just turned 27, -his body-, from which he had been conscious during 23. A few months less, actually.

More than three years asleep and not a single dream to eventide of that time, because being in a coma wasn't quite the same. He had been completely dead during that time, reduced to a motionless doll that required the same care as a baby. A tool to offer solace to all those tormented souls he had created, Anna and Dr. Tenma being the only ones to enjoy it. The fantasy recreated, of a demigod in its quest for obliteration, shattered by the sight of a weak body that had nothing of particular, neither disturbing nor angering. Not even beautiful, not in any immortal facet.

The nameless monster he missed had been killed on that bed, under those stares. What was left, a nameless man with no past, no future, and what was much worse: no purpose.

Anna argued happiness being enough of a lifetime goal but he had never understood joy as an objective but as a collateral compensation instead, one that required a greater scheme. She was never going to change his mind, so most of her attempts to make him understand were meant to fail unless she became more open-minded, creative. No, Johann required plans, ambitions, dreams even if they were shaped as nightmares, to direct his existence.

He remembered the starting point, vaguely, the moment his childish mind had designed that resolution like a monster on its own right that had consumed so much more of him that she could ever imagine.

'To put the entire world at her feet.'

Overly ambitious and vague by then, he had eventually perfectioned it until the point of becoming a strategic path of causes, consequences, and deadlines, because his dreams always came with timestamps.

Then, as existence was transformed so did reality entailed, and Johann followed. He always followed.

'To be the last person left in this world.'

Less ambitious, equally vague. Still megalomaniac, but by that time he had understood the scope of his own mind. There was no desire for survival entailed in that one, though. The requirements of violence, although pleasant, pursued a desire for silence, safety, tranquility... and ultimately solitude. He had required that level of isolation and walking along that river in the middle of the night was a reminder of that familiar sensation.

If only they were the only people left in the whole world -he usually wished.

A fairy tale in a library had represented yet another depth level in that abyss.

'To get one's memories back.'

A true mistake he was reckless enough to underestimate. The trade-off associated deserved rejection, so much pain, so much fear yet the real memories so scarce, so meaningless. Finally becoming so alien to himself.

Yet the metamorphosis had been powerful instead, his goal-driven existence turning meaningless, the fast cadence of the amnesia being converted into a bleeding void, the anger that fueled all his strength transformed into nothing more than misery.

Which was the purpose of making him understand his own mistake at that point, in that abandoned house where Nina had flung at him more unerring words than bullets? Was that an act of piety, maybe? Or her way to actually kill him instead, in her most twisted version of revenge?

Anna brandished honesty as the most precious virtue, in that blind faith whose damaging scope spared no one. She needed no other weapon to kill him, he was certain.

He had had yet a final goal left, turned into a last wish.

'To achieve the perfect suicide.'

It proved to be an easier goal, being more of a state of mind rather than an act itself. No one understood though, neither her so she came to him in a death wish. Yet it had failed from the very beginning, requiring an additional sacrifice he wasn't willing to conduct: her life. Nina had been free to die with him if desired. Sparing her destroyed all his chances of success yet he pursued that goal meticulously knowing that whatever was the failure that time it would be good enough.

Eight months and still nothing.

'To simply exist.' He refused to embrace it as a goal. It wasn’t his choice, though.

And that was the epitome of his new existential crisis. Without a goal in mind, Johann was nothing more than… nothing.

Goals had always come to him unnoticed, shaped as a mixture of conclusions and sensations over an experience that had redefined his existence. Yet nothing had redesigned him like her forgiveness, nothing had changed him like being together again and his mind remained blank, deadly so.

He wanted a purpose. He had no ambition left for this last one, taking care of her house and the house chores served him as well as dominating the European Central Bank.

Could the angels throw one purpose at him instead of the clock he had asked for?

The water felt surprisingly cold in his ankles, rapidly wetting his trousers until that freshness reached his knees, the fabric suddenly attached to his skin. His figure then remained motionless, eyes focusing on the sinuous shapes of minuscule fishes around him, the ones much bigger also roaming around him in their carefree trajectories. Him standing in the middle of that ecosystem and nothing changing, him drowning in those waters and the event passing by. Him dying and the world remaining unaltered.

There was some comfort worth to be drawn from that perspective. A perfect suicide on its own right, the sheer unimportance of the destiny faced by whatever was contained on that body.

Death felt near, yet not imminent, thus he left the happiness offered by its perspective linger, knowing it won't go any further than his knees.

"... god's sake are you OK? Hey, can you hear me?"

For the first time, his attention registered a voice that had been annoying him for some time now. He turned completely, hands on his back, wondering why someone had to interrupt him.

"Sorry?" He offered his best smile even when the chances were few that it would be seen, as he barely recognized the figure of that intruder.

He was an average man, that he knew from his voice, and his shape had nothing of particular, wearing what it seemed a plain suit. Not an interesting appearance so far.

"Are you OK? Aren't you planning on...?"

Johann's smile dried on his lips. He wasn't prepared to deal with the drama of being considered a depressed suicidal. So he decided to play it dumb.

"I was looking at the fishes, there are so many. I could barely see them from the shore so, here I am." Showing that energetic tone probed to be surprisingly easy. The Russian accent appeared without much thought. "The water feels so nice... so refreshing." He suddenly raised his arms, stretching them, like a puppet coming back to life.

The angels decided he had enough of the fantasy of suicide. He might agree on that. It all depended on how entertaining that new encounter was.

The man seemed to relax at his casual answer, which also helped Johann to switch back to that carefree state of mind.

Offering a final gaze to his new friends, he said them goodbye with a hand gesture before walking back to the shore, finally standing right next to that stranger.

Had he casted some sort of spell to invoke that man in front of him?

Because, even if he was in Vienna, and not in Prague, that man was indeed that young detective he had devoted some random thoughts on that strange night.

Jan Suk.

"You freaked me out! Glad it was just a misunderstanding..."

Sadly, the spell broke as rapidly as that man talked again and his German proved him a proficient speaker, while the actual detective had shown heavy difficulties while speaking that language. Jan had been so eager to learn it, anyway, once he had discovered his love interest was actually German. And she had been willing to teach him. A pity their relationship had finished a few days later as he decided to become a fugitive, leaving him with a mediocre German. Johann had even considered visiting him in prison if given a chance. He was still curious to see what a prison looked like.

They might look alike in a certain way, but the resemblance wasn't that remarkable after all, which proved incredibly disappointing. He had questions to ask after all.

"Oh no, no... my only problem is insomnia, hence these late-night walks." His head turned towards the water, dreamy.

"Yeah, I get you. Damn, sleeping these last days is getting impossible..." The man, who was rather brunette instead of blond, smiled then, in the same way Suk used to do.

He decided to thank the angels anyway, offering him a promising alternative. Johann decided to stay optimistic, if only for that night.

Suddenly the man grabbed a pack of cigarettes from some pocket, bringing one to his own lips.

"Do you want?" Johann looked at the box for a few seconds in that complete silence that only portrayed his mind momentary getting blank.

Accepting served no clear purpose but he did anyway. After offering him the lighter he did the same with his cigarette and both men ended up standing next to each other, watching the calming waters in front of them.

He had smoked before, several times, -enough to get used to it-, anticipating it might come in handy in some social events. And it had, even when he slightly despised that smell. Johann could derive some pleasure from alcohol but never of cigarettes, and that clear smoke coming out from his lungs.

"Is it because of a woman?" The man started saying after some moments of contemplation. "Your insomnia, I mean..."

He contemplated the dark waters. It was a woman, it always had been, mother, sister... and with equal probability, they could have been men. 'L'enfer, c'est les autres', it was.

What an utterly uninteresting question.

"No." He turned around, bored, ignoring the confused expression of that man who dared not to be Jan Suk.

Once again he was on that path walking towards nowhere and everywhere, having lost all sense of orientation years ago. He had no goal to start with, so he just had to walk.

And in the silence of the night, his mind turned noisy, bringing back the now familiar voice of hers, who had dared to question his solitude.

*'Your whole existence can be summarized as an abandoned, infuriated child crying out for attention, from his sibling, from his doctor, from every foster parent you ever had. You are silently screaming, all the time, for love or hate, it doesn’t matter, because above anything, you feel, always have felt, abandoned.'*

Her words were carved in fire in his mind, yet remained incomprehensible. Was he seeking attention?

*'Sehen Sie mich! Sehen Sie mich!'* He hadn't pursued her attention when he killed the Fortners. He wanted her to remember, to snap out of that mediocre fantasy of normality and realize...

What she had left behind.

*'Sehen Sie mich,...'*

What she really was.

He had never forced her to chase, to aim to kill, to confront him like that. He hadn't, he didn't need to because she made that decision all by herself, but now he was left to wonder, what would have he done if... if only she had mourned, the Fortners, leaving all the rest buried?

Was he looking for her attention?

*'Sehen Sie mich!'*

Her acknowledgment, attention, was a means to an end, a tool to trigger her pain and fear. He wanted revenge, not attention. He had no idea what to do with that attention.

It had been strange, being remembered by someone else. Thinking that he existed in someone else's thoughts. Unsettling even.

He wasn't sure he liked it, even. Being a ghost offered him control over the narrative of his own existence and now she lived to shatter those tales as soon as they deviated from reality. She knew the truth, a part of it at least.

*'But you are special. You want to be accepted by someone who is aware of your nature. You want someone to face you like a human being while knowing you are actually a monster. And it has been me, only me, who offers you that.'*

She had been right on that matter, simply so. He had grown tired of that same myth he had worked so hard to create -existence such as either a man or a monster-, but lacking the permission to embrace both. He had represented a human too wholesome to be stained by any impurity of this world, a monster too abhorrent to possess any glimpse of a soul. He perfectly knew that duality solely served moral purposes, but he wondered, between those extremes, where was he standing?

Was he 10% human, 90% monster? 1% human, 99% monster? 50% and 50%? He had been told so often that it was his intelligence what made him truly dangerous, his education. His charisma. Didn't it mean that in terms of his moral compass he represented a rather mediocre monster, lesser than the Baby, Čapek, Bonaparta? Maybe even Roberto.

Was he just an intelligent man turned into a bland monster?

He wanted to understand, more than anything, his own nature. All within himself, all dimensions. Beyond the labels, patches, and treatments of doctors, instead of healing, he pursued knowledge.

That would be a worthy purpose, if only it felt like one.

Yet sadly, so sadly, he already knew the answer, of sorts. No dragon nor even a man, but a broken one, so brutally shattered that he had never been able to properly resemble the resulting smithereens, becoming in the process an agonizing body and a maddened soul. Only his intellect remaining fairly unaltered.

Because that's what the monster was, his mind turned into a weapon, mercilessly designed so no one could shatter him again.

Surprisingly he had been triumphant, which might mean he wasn't such a mediocre monster after all. Or again, that he was smart enough to properly weaponize his own monstrosity in the most effective approach. He didn't know.

Did it mean his design had been a success, that both mother and father possessed seeds monstrous enough in the shape of DNA? Was that, a successful experiment, to be metabolized into an uncontrollable beast, so easily?

Johann understood the theoretical approach of Bonaparta's experiment, of course, yet many of the choices that man had main remained shady at the very least, approaching chaotic absurdity. Love made him a mad man instead.

He understood he was meant to become a born leader, meticulously designed and educated, an answer to the need for better leaders for the broken regimes that were the Soviet republics of the 70s and 80s. The East was collapsing and they needed people to restore the trust. He just represented the Czech version of a much bigger scheme, as there probably had been similar projects in Poland, Hungary, Russia.

In times of chaos, the world needed strong leaders. Hitler was the savior of a crumbling post-Versailles Germany, Stalin had collected the results of the Red October, Edvard Beneš had been the face and strength of the Czech martyr democracy against totalitarism. Johann had extensively studied the most notorious leaders of 20th century Europe, from farmers turned into partisan leaders to aristocrats turned into politicians. He was meant to lie among them one day, that's what he had been told.

It all had started with a simple eugenics experiment, yet a rather mediocre one. Communism couldn't afford the mistake of deviating towards any ideal of racial supremacy and thus dangerously converge towards its complementary form of socialism, actively opposing any idea or racial supremacy. That's why he was, -they were-, the children of smart, highly educated and attractive people, yet those parents had nothing of special, just a collection of generally positive traits with no concrete target, thus representing such a considerable percentage of the Czech population. Czechoslovakia was full of smart college girls, handsome soldiers.

Free of any racial purity ideals, Johann was only required to face a few restrictions in order to be eligible as a born leader. He had to be a man in the still-sexist communist society as he had to be Caucasian in a European country. It was just a safer choice. A woman could be a leader, a foreigner too, still the risk wasn't worth that enormous monetary investment.

That what they did could barely be considered eugenics. Yet Johann felt rather grateful to nature for his physical appearance, the chance of having two conventionally attractive parents that bred conventionally attractive children.

Being considered handsome in the most classical way had proven to be a priceless asset, enough to make him question how much of his charisma was just the shape of his face. Being blond had been useful too, same with having blue eyes, little additions to those features. If given a choice, he would have just asked for a manlier appearance too, so he would have just looked more like that man who was their father.

Overall he was happy with being an attractive European man that was all he required to successfully navigate through any social circle, either the university campus or neo-nazi spheres. He had no problems blending in, standing out. End of the story.

Yet he had only required to walk through the streets of Prague to cross paths with more men and women that looked like both of them, to conclude that eugenics had been a waste of money and all they needed to do is pick beautiful and intelligent Czech children, instead of attempting a second-rate Lebensborn.

Once the babies had been produced, Bonaparta's experiment required a long term stagnation, one that represented just a modern approach of the already existing Spartan system, which meant that they were left a few years of mercy, the most demanding stages of childhood, to the mother, before tearing them from her care to become the property of the state, at the age of six.

The nazis failed in their Generalplan Ost, and so did the Greek polis centuries before. What was going to change now?

If only forcing their mother to choose had had any meaning in all that process. Bonaparta wanted a man, he knew and so did she. It wasn't a matter of him being smarter than her, or weaker or any other comparison his sister had been able to rationalize in order to move on. They wanted a leader thus they wanted a man. Then the question was, why force her to be the one to choose?

Johann suspected the answer, his own nature made him understand, as the most brutal way to demolish that little family they created. Regardless of the outcome, the children lost the love of their mother, lived to believe so. The mother was left unworthy of her own children, the love for whom she was forced to question. The simple possibility of being unloved had been enough to destroy them both. Bonaparta denied a peaceful existence to either the mother or the saved child, which meant the decision was planned to be meaningless from the very beginning. That a pathetic way to be deadly wounded.

Maybe he was wrong and the approach had been completely different. Maybe all Bonaparta wanted was to ask a much simpler question: would she submit to give up the son or resist and sacrifice the daughter?

The intentions of that puppeteer were never unveiled.

Bonaparta needed broken children, unwanted children, or those who felt as such to start the following process of brainwashing. Separated in their own personal hell they faced the same idea of rebirth, one in an unknown room and the other in their most familiar home. It had been the same, now it felt the same. Did it matter which one was unwanted?

Didn't it?

Only Kinderheim 511 had been the real success, a modernization of Bonaparta's ideas made by a more focused team of scientists, like Dr. Biermann, those goals were clear and systematic. Their approach, purely empiric. No one loved anyone there, that's why they succeeded.

Prague had represented a nightmare for him but the final blow to his soul had been inside that building in Berlin, its classrooms, dorms, basements... and all that he had experienced, witnessed, and endured in those three years.

That place where he had learned all he had ever needed to dominate, destroy... to survive.

He learned everything needed to learn: knowledge, skill, creed. Any alternative conception of education had proven a joke and the mediocre results obtained by Anna's life was the proof. If only she had been accepted to Kinderheim 511.

What an unfair world.

Johann was glad to be a considered a failure but he also wanted to be a success, and surpass all those expectations on the same monster they attempted to create. Probe to somebody that he was indeed, good enough.

Enough to be the absolute best.

Enough to make them proud of what he had become, that he happened to exist.

But instead, all he was offered was solitude, a leadership to none. If he couldn't lead the world, might instead destroy it.

Tilting his head, Johann observed the dark waters again, down below his hanging legs. A slight motion onward and everything would disappear.

He imagined his own body colliding with the water, exploding instead of drowning, transforming into a nebula of light for a few seconds, to disappear in that storm of dust and ashes.

Rotting, however, what a pathetic choice.

Leaders shouldn't face such mortal endeavors, instead, transcend... transcend to what, fame, glory, the idea of good itself?

He wasn't a leader after all, a human either, yet not quite nameless.

What was it, him? How would his death be? Was he able to die?

Was there death after all? Of what, part of him, all of it... none? Would it be the end of that eternal twilight, becoming an eternal night instead?

The water glowed under the moonlight, shaping the giant snake slithering under his feet, maybe at the search of a new home in the Alps.

If only they could blend and become one. It was only twenty meters, at most, a few seconds.

And then it would be over, a new beginning or an absolute death and both outcomes would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

Wouldn't it?

Once upon a time, there was a little fragment of the cosmos that had nothing of particular, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither terrifying nor insignificant. Its different elements following no particular trajectory, just avoiding collision, turning around, as there was nothing else to be.

Why, one must ask, is such fate just or virtuous?

'Because it is safe,' said one of the frogs swimming in the pond.

'Because it is simple,' said the frog crossing the bridge.

'Because there is nothing else to be,' said the rotting frog underground.

Anything else to a broken toy. And if he wasn't enough to be a dragon…

Johann wanted to be a nameless monster, again.

Slowly coming back to those his surroundings, he realized, with mild astonishment, that he could perfectly recognize his state of mind, that train of thought that had repeated so often during years of existence, and the ultimate conclusion:

Johann wanted to kill.

The hunger was back, and it didn't matter how long he tried to tame it, he was going to devour everything around him.

It was the end.


End file.
